


Carry The Old Road

by Shyftlock



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon-Typical Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shyftlock/pseuds/Shyftlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>History repeats itself, sometimes more literally than one Champion of Kirkwall might think. Marian Hawke accepts a deal from Flemeth in the Fade at Adamant, and receives an unexpected second chance to take on Kirkwall. But things aren’t quite the same. As far as Marian remembers, she’s never had a twin brother named Garrett.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A dragon once told her that the world would tremble at her feet, but all Marian Hawke could think was that she wasn't quite expecting Flemeth's prophecy to come true this way.

The fade-green ground around her shuddered as the Nightmare shifted, reeling back in an unexpectedly quick motion for something so large. Marian darted forwards, keeping herself under its hulking body. The one single advantage of fighting off Sundermount's arachnid collection over her years in Kirkwall was that Marian knew not to stand in front of the damn things. Spiders couldn't exactly look over their shoulders to spit poison.

Marian whirled her staff, calling a burst of flame to the tip and focusing it into the Nightmare's mouth. The creature backed away again, and Marian sunk the bladed tip of her staff into one of its legs, wincing as the motion pulled at the deep slash along her arm. Instead of pausing, like she'd expected, the Nightmare ripped its leg away, tearing the staff out of Marian's hands.

_ Well shit. _ Marian dodged the haft of her staff as it came swinging back at her head, still embedded in the Nightmare's leg. She dropped into a roll, evading the creature's attempt to impale her. She snapped back to her feet, calling magic to her fingertips as green flared in the corner of her vision. The Inquisitor had made it out of the fade. Whatever happened now didn't matter.

“ How about we make a deal here,” Marian called as she cast flame again. A clump of tendrils dangling from around the Nightmare's mouth shriveled in the heat, dropping to the ground. “Mutually beneficial. I'll take my leave, you'll take yours. We'll never see each other again. Just forget this all happened.”

The Nightmare screamed, its cry reverberating out against the stone peaks.

“ Not in the mood for talking, then?” Marian muttered, stumbling away from the beast's crushing legs. She was sure she could outrun it in a straight up race; trying to stay out of range underneath it was difficult enough. Then again, there was also the chance that it might wise up enough to just sit on her.

Marian was slowing, she could feel it. Even with the entire fade at her beck and call, she could only fight so long before she dropped dead from exhaustion. Nothing she threw at the Nightmare seemed to be working.

She'd gone into the fight expecting the worst, but she'd thought that it would feel a little more heroic. It was like being back in the slow grind against the Arishok-- fighting and fighting and wondering if the thing was even  _ capable _ of dying. Where did demons go when they died, anyway?

The Nightmare heaved itself up and crashed back down, its legs sinking into the ground hardly two hand's lengths away from Marian. It screamed again and Marian staggered. A leg swept out and slammed into Marian's chest, throwing her back against a craggy rock structure. Gasping for air, Marian scrambled away as the creature's leg rammed into the stone where she'd just been.

“ Maker,” Marian growled. “If anyone happens to want to want to do their good deed for the day, the Champion would very much like saving right now.” Marian reached for magic, tugging against the sudden pull she felt from the fade. There seemed to be a pocket of something  _ different _ blocking her.  _ It's not going to matter in the end, _ Marian thought, and  _ pulled. _

Crackling, hot magic rushed up and around her, sweeping away the green, the Nightmare, and the fade. A familiar golden white glow settled around her, and Marian couldn't stop herself from saying the first thing that came to mind.

“ Are you finally going to teach me how to be a dragon?”

Flemeth chuckled lightly, the edges of her form shuddering and wavering as she paced up to Marian with  _ far  _ too much grace. “The joke  _ will  _ wear thin, Hawke.”

“ I really wasn't-”

“ I do believe you asked for help,” Flemeth continued. “You remember our arrangement during the Blight, yes?”

“ I did as you asked,” Marian drew out the last word. She could feel the unsettling power echoing in and around Flemeth, and all of a sudden it wasn't hard to remember that she was a being of legend. There was something  _ off _ about Flemeth-- Marian wouldn't be surprised if she actually  _ was _ a dragon.

“ I find myself in... A similar position as I was then. As do you, it seems.”

“ It seems,” Marian stepped backwards, and the white-gold energy rippled around her. It felt like walking through water charged with electricity.

“ I cannot bring you out of the fade, but I can show you the path. In exchange, you do nothing but hold on to this amulet,” Flemeth flourished her hand to reveal an amulet identical to the one she'd given Marian outside Lothering.

“ And bring it to Sundermount?”

Flemeth narrowed her eyes. “No. Merely keep it safe. It will work its purpose on its own.”

Marian was keenly aware that her decision-making skills were significantly sub-par, but the end of the world hadn't come about last time she'd made a deal with Flemeth. It stood to reason that it probably wouldn't end this time, either.

“ I'll do it,” Marian reached out for the amulet, and everything exploded.

The Nightmare reared back, keening. Marian whirled, clutching the amulet and wildly searching for Flemeth's path.

_ There. _ A snag in the fade, almost like the rift except narrower and  _ deeper _ . Marian laced her hands with magic and tore it open, diving in. The fade dragged down and in around her, and it took everything Marian had to keep steady, to keep from snapping backwards with the pull. She could feel more of the snags up ahead, and she reached for the first one she came across.

_ Please let it dump me out in front of the Inquisitor. _

  


Marian blinked her eyes against the light-- hadn't it been night when they'd stormed Adamant?

This wasn't Adamant. 

Sharp, crisp mountain air whistled through Marian’s hair. An arc of ruined stone wall stood tucked between the edge of a cliff and a large, coffin-like altar. Frost edged the leaves of the bushes that trailed down the sheer face of rock leading down either side of her.

This was Sundermount. 

Flemeth stood atop the altar, her white gold magic swirling around her to fade up into the grey sky. Merrill shifted nervously just ahead of Marian, her fingers clenched tight around her staff.

Marian went through a few choice phrases in her mind before settling for something suitably eloquent. "What?"

“ What indeed,” Flemeth stepped down off of the altar, tilting her head and eyeing Marian. “There are still three of you.”

_ Three…? _ _ Bethany? _ Marian turned slowly. Carver stood to her right, dressed in his favorite ratty old tan tunic that Marian had ‘accidentally’ lost for him in the Deep Roads. His eyes were wide, shoulders tense. He held his sword loosely, ready. He met Marian’s gaze for a moment and tilted his head towards Flemeth.

Flemeth was saying something about being shocked that her amulet had made it to Sundermount. Marian vaguely recalled her saying the same thing, years ago. 

“ The market for dragon-possessed amulets is surprisingly slow these days,” an unfamiliar voice came from Marian’s other side. “Such a pity.”

“ Garrett,” Carver muttered warningly. 

_ Garrett? _ A scruffy man with dark hair and  bright golden eyes stood to Marian’s left. He leaned casually against a finely carved glaive. A trail of undead corpses littered the rocky pathway back towards the elven graves behind him.

Flemeth laughed. “I  _ like _ you.”

Marian’s vision went grey. 

Had… Had Flemeth sent her back in time?

The others were still talking, but Marian couldn’t focus enough to hear their words.  _ What happened? Who the hell is Garrett? _

“What did you do?” Marian forced out. Her words rode over something the man called Garrett was saying. Flemeth’s cool gaze shifted to Marian, scrutinizing her anew.

“ Maybe the question is what did  _ you  _ do?” She said, a fresh tone of interest lacing her words. “And what are you going to do now that it is done?”

“ I don’t-- I don’t want this,” Marian stepped back. Everything she’d done, everything she’d lost-- was it gone? Kirkwall, Carver’s Blight in the deep roads, the Qunari, losing mother,  _ Anders, _ the Inquisition, Adamant, all ahead instead of behind.  _ A new start. Do I  _ not  _ want it? _

Carver’s fingertips brushed her arm briefly. “Marian?”

  


The stones seemed to be shifting out from under Marian’s feet by force of pure spite. The path up Sundermount wasn’t a particularly dangerous one, but Marian couldn’t keep her footing. Carver had been worried the first few times, asking if she was okay in every way he could without actually using those words. She’d hardly responded, uncertain how to respond. She hadn’t spoken to Carver for nearly three years, and she hadn’t had much to talk to him about then. Now, she didn’t even remember how they’d interacted outside of bickering. 

At this point, though, even Merrill was noticing.

“ Um, Marian? It  _ is _ Marian, right? I don’t mean to be rude,” Merrill shuffled away a few steps when Marian glanced at her. She ducked her head and took a deep breath before continuing. “But if you’re… a little tired, we can stop. For a while.”

Marian kicked a hollow, discarded husk of a giant spider leg. It skipped over the path ahead and rolled off to the side. “I’m...”  _ from another time, and very lost. I’m not entirely sure what to think about it.  _ “ We’re not going to make it back to Kirkwall before nightfall. Are we going to be staying with the Dalish overnight?”

Merrill froze. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea?”

“ Dearest sister,” Garrett started, speaking for the first time since Flemeth’s departure. “I know how you do love to make unusual friends, but I think I’d rather camp in a cave leading to the deep roads. If nothing else, we’d probably receive a warmer welcome from the darkspawn.”

“ Darkspawn wouldn’t-” Merrill started, then snapped her mouth shut, cheeks heating. “There is a rather nice little clearing a short way outside of camp. We could sleep there.”

“ We’ll do that,” Garrett agreed. “If nothing else, Marian will get a chance to remember how to work the whole walking thing.”

“ You’re an absolute joy, Garrett,” Marian sighed. She wasn’t entirely sure where he had come from, but Carver seemed accepting of him. Likely some trick of Flemeth’s, by Marian’s reckoning. Some sort of shade to make sure Marian carried out her end of the bargain? But she’d followed through with Flemeth’s last request. Why would Flemeth distrust her now?

Flemeth had given her a second chance somehow, a byway Marian never expected to have. Marian wasn’t going to let it slip through her fingers again. She knew what was going to happen, and she could change it. She could save everyone this time, save the city of chains. She was going to turn blood into  _ magic. _

 

“ This expedition is a huge risk,” Marian paced alongside Garrett, walking nearly shoulder to shoulder with him. She’d nearly made a wrong turn twice now-- despite the fact that it was still Lowtown, Garrett’s Kirkwall was like the Hawke family here. They were the same at first glance, but the subtle differences could knock Marian off her feet as easily as any dragon.

“ We can’t stay here. One more wrong move and we’ll be a nice afternoon snack for a patrol of Templars,” Garrett adjusted the greatsword strapped across his back. Neither he nor Marian dared carry anything resembling a staff, not with how close the Templars were. Carver wouldn’t be thrilled to discover it was gone when he woke up. “We could, of course, camp at Sundermount for a few months. As we saw a few days ago, the open graves are quite lovely this time of year.”

“ We could go back to Ferelden,” or anywhere  _ other _ than the deep roads.

“ Ferelden was just decimated by a Blight, if you don’t recall,” Garrett stepped delicately around a pile of refuse that half-blocked the narrow walkway. “There really aren’t any other reasonable options. The expedition will be perfect to get the two of us out of town for a while.”

“ And what about mother? Do you really think Gamlen--”

“ He’s an ass, but he wouldn’t deliberately let anything happen to her.”

“ Deliberately is the key word there.”

“ How about we compromise a little. We learn more about the expedition from Bartrand’s brother, we get the money. Then we can step back and take a look at what our best option is,” Garrett nudged Marian’s shoulder. “Where’s your sense of adventure, anyway?”

“ I may have sent it in an amulet with a band of refugees to take it safely far away so I could duplicate myself with it later.”

They turned the corner and the Hanged Man stood just ahead. Marian wasn’t entirely certain whether or not the smell of alcohol was in her head or in the air, but neither would really surprise her. Broken glass crunched underfoot as she quickened her pace to reach the door before Garrett. He did the same, and they both reached for the door at the same time.

The door swung open abruptly, hitting Marian in the face. She stepped back, startled, only to have a stumbling, bleeding drunk hit her with equivalent force. Tamping down her brief panic, Marian only managed another step back before the man grabbed her arm.

“Crazy bitch!” The man roared, pushing off of Marian’s shoulder and reeling back into the building. A mug smashed against the door, and the man quickly backpedaled away. “Don’t think this is over!”

“Welcome to the Hanged Man,” Garrett said lightly, turning to watch the drunk stumble gracelessly away. “And it isn’t even midday.”

“Are we even certain this Varric character is a viable entryway into this expedition?” Marian muttered to Garrett. 

“It seems to me that the company he keeps is just about what I’d expect of Bartrand, at least,” Garrett peered into the Hanged Man, glancing around and then up. “Sweet Maker, I’m not sure if I actually want to walk under that”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Marian shoved past him and stalked between the tables and towards the bar. A familiar shock of black hair under a blue bandana caught her eye, and Marian leaned up against the counter next to Isabella. “You the one who chased that guy out?”

“Sweetheart,” Isabella leaned back and took a swig of her drink. “The men around here are rabid. Watch yourself.”

“ Here’s to that,” Marian toasted Isabella with an invisible cup. She couldn’t hold back a grin at her old friend’s words. She was going to enjoy getting to know her again.

“ That one yours?” Isabella jerked her head towards Garrett, eyes glittering. 

“ Brother,” Marian replied. Something crashed on the opposite side of the room. Garrett looked distinctly uncomfortable, as if the very floor he stood on was too dirty for his tastes. He crossed his arms and stared challengingly back at Isabella. 

_ He’s pretty dainty for someone who’s been raised on the run,  _ Marian thought.

“ Not bad,” Isabella gave Garrett an appraising look, then turned back to Marian. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“ Actually, I’m here on business,” Marian waved off the bartender when he started their way. He gave her a look, but went back to scrubbing out a mug with a cloth that had certainly seen better days. “You know where I could find one Varric Tethras?”

“ Sounds familiar.”

“ Dwarf. Named his crossbow Bianca.”

“ Ah, that one. He has a suite upstairs.”

“ Thanks,” Marian pushed away from the bar, gesturing to Garrett. “I’m Marian, by the way. Marian Hawke.”

“ Isabella. Formerly  _ Captain  _ Isabella.”

“ I might take you up on that drink some other time, so don’t think you’ve seen the last of me,” Marian raised two fingers in a brief wave as she turned towards the stairs. “Thanks for the tip, Captain.”

“ Been here before?” Garrett asked as they started up the stairs. He glanced back at the bar over his shoulder, eyeing Isabella.

“ Might have, in another lifetime.”

Garrett paused at the top of the steps, glancing down the halls to either side. “Did you happen to read her mind or something to get which room he’s supposed to be in?”

Marian glanced back down the stairs. She hadn’t realized that Isabella hadn’t told her which room Varric lived in. She’d almost forgotten that she wasn’t supposed to know where he lived. “How about we just knock on all the doors. That way, we’ll know everyone who lives here by the time we’re done.”

She stepped forward and knocked on the first door. Varric’s door. A muttered curse sounded from inside, and Varric’s voice called out, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.”

“ Hanging on in the Hanged Man,” Garrett muttered, leaning against the wall outside the door.

“ That was bad even for you,” Marian said. 

“ Can’t win every time.”

“ I told you, the next book isn’t-- Oh. Hawke,” The door cracked open and Varric’s face peered out. “And other Hawke. Perfect timing, come right in.”

“ About the Deep Roads,” Garrett started, striding through the doorway and taking in the room with an impressed look. “It’ll take a little for us to get the coin. In the mean time, is there anything we can do to get Bartrand on board with our… partnership?”

Everything was in the exact same place Marian remembered-- Varric’s full sized bed tucked into the little side room coming off of the living area, the fireplace smouldering with half-dead coals, the table in the center with just enough chairs for Varric’s normal Wicked Grace crowd. Marian breathed in the scent of musty Lowtown alcohol and dirt. The scent was friendship, even though the familiarity didn’t exactly make it any more tolerable.

“ That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,” Varric gestured towards the long table in the center of the room.

Marian sat down across from Varric. Garrett stood awkwardly for a moment, then unstrapped Carver’s greatsword and propped it against the table. Varric raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. Garrett settled into the chair next to Marian, drawing back his shoulders and raising his chin.

“ We’re going to need a more solid idea of what we’re walking into,” Varric tapped his fingers on the tabletop, eyes flicking from Marian to Garrett. Marian got the impression that he wasn’t entirely certain which of them was supposed to be calling the shots. Varric would figure it out, probably before Garrett and Marian did. He was good with reading people. Well, people he wasn’t close to. Bartrand and Bianca were a different matter, in Marian’s mind.

“ If you’re going to ask us to clear out the Deep Roads for you, I think that’s a task better suited to a Warden,” Marian tilted her chair back a little, gauging Varric’s reaction. Garrett kicked her shin with his heel under the table.

“ No,” Varric scoffed. “We do need Wardens, though. One, specifically.”

“ Go on,” Garrett said quickly, cutting Marian off the moment she opened her mouth. Marian bit down on the inside of her cheek. The Deep Roads expedition couldn’t happen, not with the future repercussions. But she didn’t want to alienate Varric in the process of breaking it down from the inside. It was probably good that Garrett was there.

“ There’s a healer running a free clinic in Darktown. Rumor has it, he used to be a Warden. He could get us Deep Roads maps. He’s not too hard to find, but he’s hard to get to. He’s got the whole of Darktown wrapped around his finger. You Fereldens look out for your own.”

_ Anders. _

Marian’s heart nearly stopped.  _ He’s not your Anders,  _ she reminded herself.  _ Your Anders is waiting back in your Ferelden. Hopefully he isn’t getting himself into any more trouble than he’s already in. _ She could only do so much to make her Anders safe, but this one, Garrett’s Anders. She could save him.

“ We could-”

“ We’ll talk to him,” Garrett cut her off again. “You’ll have those maps in no time.”

Marian pursed her lips, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. “Of course.”

“Excellent. I knew you two would be perfect,” Varric stood and walked to his bed, shuffling through a stack of papers sitting on top of the blankets. “I have a few jobs you might be interested in while you’re gathering up the coin.”

“ Money’s always good,” Garrett agreed. 

Varric held out a thin sheaf of papers. “This should keep you busy for a little.”

Marian snagged the papers before Garrett could. Turning her back to him, she flicked through the pages, narrowing her eyes and biting her lip. They looked like the papers that regularly adorned the Chanter’s board, all completely different and yet still managing to look like they belonged in the same place. She didn’t recognize any of the names. None of the requests sounded like anything she remembered as important, so she let Garrett take them.

“We’ll get right on these, Tethras,” Garrett said, standing and picking up Carver’s greatsword. Marian strode by him, opening the door.

“Varric, just Varric. My brother’s the one who goes by Tethras; it makes him feel important.  It just makes me feel old,” the dwarf chuckled a little. “And Hawke?”

Marian and Garrett turned in sync.

“You’re not convincing anyone. If you’re going to carry a blade, carry it with confidence.”


	2. Chapter 2

“ I’m going out, Marian,” Garrett called across all five feet of Gamlen’s hovel. “Want to come with?”

“ Depends on what sort of trouble you’re intending on getting into,” Marian replied, shoving Drake off of her legs. The golden-brown Mabari whined and trotted after her, his eyes imploring her to come back and keep petting him.

“ I’m going to take every job on the Chanter’s board so we can purchase the Viscount’s Keep and live like kings,” Garrett twirled his glaive as Marian walked in from the small bedroom she and her mother shared. “Also, I’m taking Carver.”

“ Actually, I was thinking of visiting that Warden healer Varric mentioned,” Marian pulled on her boots, slipping the leather straps into the buckles and tugging them tight. Drake snuffled at her shoes and went to sit beside Garrett.

“ Alone?”

“ No. I was going to snag Aveline-- I asked her to meet me after her patrol today.”

“ You think taking a city guard will look good to a refugee apostate?”

“ She owns more than a guard’s uniform, Garrett,” Carver cut in, snatching Garrett’s glaive away from him. “And I hope you can handle this like an actual weapon instead of one of your little magic sticks.” 

“ Oh, it’ll be easy,” Garrett said, slipping Carver’s greatsword off of his back, swatting away Carver’s hands when he tried to take it back. He skipped away a couple of steps and pointed it at Carver’s chest, holding his other hand back elegantly. “Stab people with the pointy end. It can’t be that hard if you can do it.”

He twirled the tip of the sword in circles as Carver tried to edge around him to retrieve his weapon. Drake barked, bouncing along the fringes of the altercation. 

“ You know what, Garrett, when you realize that you can’t actually fight for shit without your flashy fade fingers, I’m not going to pull your ass out of the fire,” Carver lunged for the blade and Garrett raised it above his head. It was hardly a fingertip out of Carver’s reach, but it didn’t look like Carver was going to bend his pride enough to jump.

Marian smirked, securing her belt and sheathing her stolen scimitar. Garrett’s antics had Marian reining in her own-- ganging up on her littlest sibling didn’t seem quite fair. Garrett had yet to make any moves to cause suspicion, but Marian still wasn’t sure about him. Leandra, Gamlen, and Aveline knew him. Apparently he was Marian’s junior by about a year, her brother and a mage. Despite the fact that it was nice to have someone who truly appreciated and reciprocated her sense of humor, Marian refused to completely let her guard down around him.

A cool sea breeze struggled to maintain itself between the tight buildings of Lowtown, carrying the scent of gently sun-baked refuse. Marian walked the familiar streets with a strong sense of nostalgia tugging at her chest. She had no idea if she was going to be staying in this past for long. Would Flemeth take her back to the present when she returned? Would anything she did here in this old Kirkwall matter? 

The chatter of the Lowtown residents washed over her, and Marian let the thoughts sink to the back of her mind. Here was here and now was now and she was going to do the best she could with it. 

Aveline stood outside the Hanged Man-- the only point of interest in Lowtown that she and Marian considered a viable meeting point. She pushed off from the wall to meet Marian as she approached. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

Marian glanced over her shoulder, checking the range of the people going about their business around them. “It’s not exactly something I wanted to talk about in the guard barracks.”

“ I got that impression,” Aveline widened her stance and crossed her arms. “Are you going to explain, or am I suddenly going to find myself helping you relieve someone of items so unmentionable that I’d have been perfectly content to  _ not know they even existed. _ ”

“ It’s good to see you too, Aveline,” Marian said, chuckling. “First off, that was only once. Secondly, it’s nothing illegal. Well, nothing that is the sort of illegal that-”

“ Spit it out, Hawke.”

“ We’re going to go visit a Warden in Darktown. He’s got some maps I need for the Tethras Deep Roads adventure,” Marian gestured for Aveline to follow and started down towards the docks. “Thing is, he’s… Like Garrett and I, so I didn’t want you bringing your guard uniform and Wesley’s shield. Don’t want to scare him off.”

“ I understand,” Aveline kept pace alongside Marian, her hand on the hilt of her sword. “I did want to caution you about  _ that _ again. I heard about the incident last week. I’m doing my best to pull the strings I’ve got, but you have to remember I’m not in a much better place than you.”

“ I know. We’re being more cautious--” Marian paused when Aveline snorted. “Give us a little credit. Garrett and I are looking for opportunities to get out of the city.”

“ The Deep Roads. Garrett’s not been able to shut up about it since he heard about Bartrand’s plan,” Aveline scoffed.

“ Not a fan?”

“ I know you aren’t, either. It’s the damned Deep Roads. We’ve all got reason to hate darkspawn-- I don’t know why you’d want to go explore a nest of them for months on end.”

Marian grimaced and nodded. “It’s a chance to net some coin, but my reservations outweigh my normal enthusiasm for getting chewed on by unusual creatures.”

“ Do you have any alternatives?”

“ That’s the worst part-- we don’t,” Marian let out a frustrated sigh, kicking closed a door that nearly blocked the entirety of the narrow alleyway they were walking through. “If I could come up with something else, Garrett might be more open to dropping the Deep Roads thing. But everywhere else is either a horribly bad idea or implausible.”

“ That sounds like a pretty accurate description of most of the things your family does,” Aveline said, peering suspiciously down the rickety walk of stairs that led into the East end of Darktown. “Do you know exactly where this Warden is? I didn’t bring my pouch of bribe coins.”

“ I got a tip the other day,” Marian lied, starting down the stairs. She didn’t need to bother Linelle about Anders this time around. She’d visit the woman when she had something to give, rather than something to take. “If it’s accurate, I know where he is.”

“ And why is he going to help you? Wardens are a secretive bunch,” Aveline’s heavy footsteps sounded on the wooden steps behind Marian. In one of the last years she’d been in Kirkwall, Marian had fallen straight through these stairs while running after some ruffian or another. They had a couple years left in them, but Marian stepped lightly nonetheless.

“ Oh, he’ll probably ask us to do something in return, like bring him the severed head of a high dragon or eradicate all of the rats from Darktown.”

“ Equally difficult tasks,” Aveline chuckled.

“ I’d be less inclined to take up the rat one,” Marian said. Anders had asked them to break into the Maker-forsaken Chantry last time. Marian wasn’t sure what had possessed her to say yes back then, but she was glad she had. He’d been trying to rescue a friend of his, a man from his days in Kinloch Hold. 

Anders had killed his friend.

Marian’s steps slowed. Aveline clattered to a halt behind her.

“ Lost already?” Aveline asked.

“ No. Just remembered something I’d rather I hadn’t,” Marian picked up her pace again, leading the way into Darktown. 

The ground was mostly stone and dirt stuck together with petrified waste, pockmarked with the occasional beggar or sore-afflicted animal. Darktown air smelled basically the same as Lowtown, if Lowtown air had been locked in a cellar for a year.

“You can practically taste the filth down here,” Aveline muttered, glancing around. A door slammed up ahead, followed by the ring of raised voices against the thin walls.

Marian hummed in agreement, turning a corner and making her way carefully down a narrow stairway. A little elven child she vaguely recognized scampered by, carrying a small sack of tools. She almost reached out to brush her hand over the top of the child’s head, but then she remembered that she wasn’t actually supposed to know the child yet.

She’d probably get a chance to speak to the little girl when she visited Merrill next.

The lantern outside of Anders’ clinic was lit, hanging above the door with all the subtlety of a Mabari on a dinner table. Another child lounged outside, scrambling to his feet when he saw them. He stared for a moment, eyes wide, then dashed inside the door, slamming it behind him. Voices raised briefly inside, then fell silent.

“You think that was the lookout?” Aveline asked, voice low. “Do we really look that threatening?”

“Well, we’re obviously not injured. He’s a healer,” Marian walked up to the door, tapping her fingers on the handle. “We probably look like bounty hunters. Our kind have to be careful in a place like Kirkwall.”

Aveline nodded grimly, taking her hand off of her sword for the first time since they’d set off. Marian met her eyes for a moment and opened the door.

A small huddle of three men and one woman stood in an arc around the door. The woman and the man next to her held longswords, and the others clutched daggers. “What are you doing here?” The woman growled. “Get out.”

Marian raised her hands slowly, craning her neck to peer behind them. There was another small knot of people in the back of the room, lit by a faint blue light, but it was too dark to make much of anything out beyond that. “We’re just here to talk to the healer. We don’t want trouble.”

“You don’t look like you need a healer,” the woman flicked her dirty blonde hair out of her face and lifted her longsword a little higher. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Marian “You look like one of Athenril’s.”

“The ginger one’s part of the guard,” one of the men with daggers added. “I’ve seen ‘er patrolling Lowtown.”

Marian let out a short breath. This wasn’t how it had happened last time.Then again, neither was her ‘first’ meeting with Isabella. “How about we put down all of our sharp things and just talk about this.”

Nobody moved.

Marian sighed, unbuckling her belt and dropping it, along with the sheathed scimitar, on the ground. It didn’t matter anyway-- she couldn’t use the thing for shit. They didn’t have nearly enough money to buy  _ two _ weapons that worked as mage’s staves but passed as polearms. Garrett got the glaive for whatever reason. It was, apparently, decided before Marian’s time here. She could have bought something cheaper and useless and showy, like daggers, but Marian had caught sight of a bastard she remembered as one of the people who regularly stole from the Alienage elves. Whatever Marian could manage with the scimitar was better than anything he could.

Aveline made a low sound of frustration and set her weapon on the ground as well. 

The blue light in the back of the room flickered out.

“Get out,” The blonde woman repeated, gesturing towards the door with her sword. “You’re not--”

“What’s going on here?” Anders’s tired voice cut in. He rested his hand on the blonde woman’s shoulder, leaning on her like she was the only thing that kept him from falling. “We don’t turn people away, Nane.”

“They look like mercs. Atash says that one’s in the guard,” the woman, Nane, lowered her sword and freed one hand. “The Templars have been cracking down, we can’t...”

“What do you need?” Anders asked, dull amber eyes flickering from Marian to Aveline. 

He looked awful. His hair was ragged, as if it had recently been trimmed with a blade. If Marian knew anything about Anders, it probably had. His favorite coat, all green and brown and feathers, hung limply off of his gaunt frame. Marian hadn’t noticed all that much when she’d met him for the first time-- most Ferelden refugees looked like they’d just been dragged out of a gutter. Herself included, she was sure.

He wasn’t going to stay this way if Marian had anything to say about it.

“We heard that you used to be a Warden,” Marian said, glancing down at her scimitar. Nane caught the motion and glared.

“ If they sent you, you can tell them to  _ shove it _ ,” Anders replied with sudden vehemence. “Those bastards wouldn’t let me keep my cat.”

_ Ser Pounce-a-Lot, _ Marian remembered. Anders never shut up about the cat. He wasn’t the type of person to love things half-way. “We’re not here to take you back. We’re part of an expedition to the Deep Roads. We need all the help we can get. I thought you might be someone to go to.”

“I would be a happy man if I never so much as heard the words ‘deep’ and ‘roads’ in the same sentence for the rest of my life,” Anders patted Nane’s shoulder and turned around. He sighed deeply, running his fingers through the feathers across his left shoulder. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” 

Marian waited for a moment, ignoring Nane’s burning glare. Anders started walking to the back of the room, picking his staff up from where it leaned against a cot. Marian stepped over her weapon, leaving it behind as she went after the healer. “Is there anything I can offer you in exchange for your help?”

Anders laughed harshly. “How about the Knight-Commander’s head on a stick?”

“Want to shake on it?” Marian asked lightly.

Anders froze. 

“I don’t think that’s a particularly good idea,” Aveline made her way to Marian’s side. She bumped Marian with her elbow, lips pursed. “As great as you and your brother think you are, I’d avoid joking about that if I were you.”

“ The Knight-Commander is a  _ monster, _ ”  Anders said, he didn’t turn around, but Marian could see his hands whiten as they clenched around the staff. “I came here to Kirkwall to save a friend. A mage in the wretched Gallows. If you help me get him past the Templars...”

Anders moved to stand in front of Marian in an unexpectedly fluid motion. Marian pushed down the urge to step back as the familiar buzz of Justice’s presence flickered around Anders for a brief moment. 

“...I’ll give you the maps I have to the Deep Roads in this area,” Anders finished. 

“I would do anything to help another mage,” Marian said quietly. Aveline shifted uncomfortably beside her, but she continued. “Especially one under the Maker-forsaken Knight-Commander’s thumb.”

Anders’s eyes went soft, surprised. He pulled in a shallow breath and the corners of his mouth quirked up into a little smile. “That’s not the response I usually get.”

Marian nodded grimly. “I suspect that it isn’t going to be easy to free your friend. I wouldn’t get my hopes too high.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t,” Anders tugged a cot over with his foot and sat down heavily. “The Templars know something about him and I, but I’m not sure how much. I sent a message to him to meet me at the Chantry tonight. Hopefully he’ll be alone”

Marian’s insides went icy. She’d been considering waiting until tomorrow to visit Anders. Had she gone with Garrett… 

Her second chance at the years in Kirkwall were hardly beginning and she’d almost lost the most important person in her life. “The Circle’s been turning mages Tranquil at the slightest provocation,” Marian said awkwardly. 

They wouldn’t be able to save Karl. Anders had once told her that Karl’s death was the only reason he’d been willing to go back into the Deep Roads with Bartrand’s expedition. It was one of the few things Justice hadn’t been able to stop him from doing. Marian didn’t know how to make the loss of Karl easier for him. She didn’t know if she could.

“We’ll be fine, I’m sure. I don’t think the Templars would be so quick to shed evil mage blood all over the carpets of their precious Chantry,” Anders replied, completely missing the point.

“I’ll be there,” Marian glanced at Aveline. “I’ll bring backup, too.”

Aveline raised an eyebrow and shook her head.

“Not you,” Marian reassured.

“Do you trust them? The people you’re bringing?” Anders asked, laying his staff across his knees and toying with the wrapping halfway down the weapon.

“Why would you take my word for it?” Genuine curiosity forced the words from Marian’s lips. 

“You’re a mage. Coming to a meeting with Templars is a risk. If you’re willing to take it, that says something about you.”

“I trust them completely.”

“Then I will see you tonight.”

Marian nodded sharply and turned for the door. To her mild surprise, her and Aveline’s blades were still there. Nane was the only one of the original band of defenders still standing ready, watching Marian and Aveline. Marian met her gaze cooly, flipping her sheathed scimitar up into her hands with a sharp movement of her boot.

Aveline was well out the door before Anders’s voice called out from behind them. “Wait, I didn’t get your name.”

Aveline kept walking, huffing out a sigh. 

Marian turned, hand on the doorframe. “Hawke. Marian Hawke.”

“I’m Anders.” 

  


“ Are you  _ mad?! _ ”  Carver snapped, voice rising sharply. “Yes, let’s walk  _ directly  _ into the very  _ heart _ of the group of people who want to  _ kill you. _ ”

“It sounds like a morning walk along the docks for us, really,” Garrett nudged Carver. “Nothing we don’t deal with every--”

“You’re not going to have very many more ‘every days’ if you keep on like this,” Carver snarled, shoving Garrett away. “What does this Anders person even want their friend out for? Are we going to start a little mage rescue? Maybe ask for donations? Set up shop on the other side of Lowtown?”

“Now you’re starting to make sense,” Garrett agreed.

Carver let out a wordless noise of fury.

“Shut up, Garrett,” Marian cut in, leaning against the wall of the blind alley they stood in. The warehouse district wasn’t quite the most secretive place, but back alley deals and fights went down often enough that they probably wouldn’t be bothered. “You two are the ones pushing for this blighted Deep Roads trip. The Warden is our best shot at getting maps and experienced help.”

“ She has a point,” Garrett flipped his hand up and waved at Carver to get his attention. “It isn’t like the Wardens will just hand over their maps, even if we  _ could _ find more of them.”

“There has to be a better way to do this.”

“If we don’t go with him, I get the feeling he’s going to go anyway,” Marian continued. “And then we’ll lose our only chance at getting the maps.”

Carver kicked the dirt viciously. 

“It’s going to take us a while to get to Hightown, Carver,” Garrett added. “I’m going with Marian. It’s your choice if you join us or not.”

“Like it’s much of a choice. Sending three mages up against a Chantry likely teeming with Templars? You need someone who can fight without magic,” Carver whirled around and paced the length of the alleyway. “Varric sounded interested in tagging along with us when Garrett and I ran across him earlier today. We could take him as well.”

“If he’s at the Hanged Man, we can pick him up on the way,” Marian said. “We should get moving.”

“I can’t believe this,” Carver muttered, stalking ahead.

Varric was at the Hanged man, and he caught up his crossbow as if he’d just been waiting for them to visit. His enthusiasm lasted until Carver informed him that they were taking a handful of mages to storm the Chantry. Varric hadn’t backed down, but he had moved much more cautiously after that.

They passed the  old Amell residence on their way to the Chantry, and Marian couldn’t help but wistfully stare at it as they trod the quiet evening streets of Hightown. Gamlen’s hovel left much to be desired. 

“ We’ll get it back, Marian,” Garrett said, glancing over his shoulder towards the darkened mansion. “Whatever Gamlen says about Mother not deserving it is a load of shit.”

“ The old Amell place?” Varric asked. “You’re related to the Amells?”

“ Gamlen Amell is our uncle,” Garrett replied. “Our mother was an Amell until she married our father and moved to Ferelden.”

“ Ah.”

T he rest of the walk to the Chantry was spent in silence. The sun was about halfway through setting when they reached the courtyard in front of the steps. Its last rays lit the building a glowing, firey orange. 

“ I think we’re a little early,” Garrett observed. “How good is your inconspicuous loiter?”

“ Unparalleled,” Varric replied.


	3. Chapter 3

O ne sunset and a few hours later, a lone robed figure walked steadily into the courtyard and towards the Chantry steps. The moment Marian recognized the grey hair and beard thick enough to rival Garrett’s, she threw her hood over her head and broke cover. Carver’s quiet, furious voice followed her, but no footsteps accompanied it.

“ Karl?” Marian called out, keeping her voice low. “Karl Thekla?”

“ Yes?”

Marian had spoken to countless Tranquil over her years in Kirkwall. More after the mage-Templar war started, and even a few in Skyhold. The sheer  _ emptiness _ in Karl’s voice chilled her to the bone. This was someone she could have known. A close, close friend of Anders, someone Anders was willing to risk his life and walk straight into a nightmare for.

Someone whose fate she knew, and was still powerless to prevent.

“ Don’t go in there,” Marian caught his arm, and he stopped. His vacant blue eyes met hers, steady and unfeeling.

“ I am to go into the Chantry. I must meet someone there.”

“ You can meet him out here.”

“ Anders should come into the Chantry. That is where we were to meet. He will understand, then.”

“ Karl, listen to me. They want to kill him. They’ll take his mind away. Whatever they did to you, that’s what they want to do to him,” Marian wasn’t sure if the Templars were already waiting in the Chantry or if they were waiting out in the streets of Hightown to follow Karl in, but any opportunity to avoid them was an opportunity to be taken.

“ They want to save mages from themselves. They’ll save Anders,” Karl said in the same dead voice.

“ Is that what they told you?” Marian asked. This was saving mages? How could the Templars even pretend that this was good? Karl was gone. His body remained, yes, he still functioned, but he wasn’t  _ alive.  _ What kind of monster could look at this and call it  _ saving _ someone?

“ Karl? Karl!” Ander’s voice rang out across the courtyard, high with wild desperation. “You’re here! You made it!”

Anders sprinted across the courtyard, staff clenched in his right hand. Hope ran rampant across his face in a full grin, and he sputtered as a loose feather flicked off of his pauldrons into his face. “I can’t believe--” 

He faltered when he caught Marian’s eyes. With a bitter, sinking feeling melting through her heart, Marian released Karl’s sleeve. Her hand dropped leaden to her side as Karl turned to face his old friend.

The smile stayed on Anders’s face for a sickeningly long moment after his eyes went wide. He swallowed, and made an aborted movement towards Karl. 

Anders’s broken, whispered “ _ no _ ”  sliced straight into Marian’s chest. 

There were a lot of ways to die, she realized, and a heart didn’t have to stop for all of them. 

A glint of moonlight on armor drew Marian’s attention to the courtyard’s entrance. A patrol of Templars rounded the corner, blades bared. Marian couldn’t summon enough energy to be angry. She turned, staring straight at the spot Garrett, Varric, and Carver were hiding. After a brief moment, they emerged from the shadows. Garrett led, shoulders drawn forward and glaive held ready. Pure murder burned in his eyes at an intensity she’d never seen from him before. 

Marian drew her scimitar, regretting the decision not to take her staff. They’d taken too many mages to a Templar’s fight. She lit the blade with crackling lightning, holding loosely to her connection to the fade. The more magic you were pulling when a Templar’s smite hit, the more it hurt. 

“ Stop where you are and drop your weapons!” The lead templar shouted. Garrett burst into a run, fire ripping across the ground ahead of him. The stone  _ melted _ beneath one Templar’s feet, and the man reeled backwards, screaming as the molten rock bled into the soles of his boots. Smoke rose from the cracks in his armor, and he collapsed, voice breaking and fading out.

The kick-in-the-chest feeling of a collection of simultaneous smites tore through Marian. She gasped, letting the magic flicker out of her without a fight. She rounded Anders and Karl, standing in the middle ground between them and the Templars.

Carver overtook Garrett, swinging his sword in a wicked arc that took a Templar’s blade out of his hands. The crank-crack of Bianca sounded out from behind Marian, and an arrow sprouted from another Templar’s throat. 

Then the fade yawned wide and blue flared up and around the courtyard like a crashing wave. “ _ You will never take another mage as you took him, _ ”  Anders-  _ Justice- _ roared. Heatless fire licked around Anders’s frame as he barreled past Marian and cracked his staff against a Templar’s blade. The templar lit with magic, crumpling to the ground soundlessly.

Marian felt her connection to the fade open with Justice’s appearance and sent lightning cracking against Garrett’s Templar. Garrett wrenched off the Templar’s helmet the moment the lightning faded and ran the blade of his glaive through the Templar’s neck.

For a moment, the courtyard was bathed in the light of magic and the sound of steel against steel, then everything went silent.

Garrett shoved the Templar’s body to the ground. Carver wrenched his blade out of the breastplate of another, holding it up to inspect it in the fading blue light. 

“ You know, I’ve never considered myself a particularly moral man, but I think this is definitely one of the worst things I’ve participated in,” Varric commented from at Marian’s elbow. He hauled Bianca up over his shoulder and sighed. “Not that I’m  _ too _ opposed.”

Marian sheathed her useless scimitar, flexing her fingers against the light tingle from the leftover electric magic. “It’ll only get worse from here.”

Anders, half-collapsed against his staff, let out a loud, shaky breath as Justice’s light evaporated from his shoulders. A Templar’s blood ran red through the cracks in the flagstone a handsbreadth from his knees. He stood slowly, back still turned to Karl.

Garrett stalked over, the fade pulled tight around him. Marian caught him before he reached Anders, shaking her head. Eyebrows drawing together, Garrett opened his mouth, but Marian stopped him with a glare. He muttered something under his breath and turned away, shoulders tense.

“Anders?” Karl’s voice came, thin and threaded with wonder. “What… What did you do? It’s like… you brought a piece of the fade into this world.”

Anders turned, taking fast, wide steps. He dropped his staff and put his hands on Karl’s shoulders. “I’m- That’s not important. How did they get to you?”

“ The Templars here, they’re like wolves. They found a letter I was writing you. You couldn’t imagine it. Everything’s gone when they make you Tranquil. The music, the colors. I’d gladly give up my magic, but they took  _ me _ as well,” Karl’s voice almost cracked, and he leaned forward into Anders’s touch. “It’s fading, whatever you did. Please, kill me before it’s gone again.  _ Please. _ ”

“Is there nothing we can do?” Carver asked. He stood beside Garrett, sword still in hand. “Can we fix this?”

“ Can you cure a beheading?” Anders snapped, baring his teeth in a half-sob. “There’s  _ nothing _ we can do.”

Marian wished with all her heart that she could disagree with him. She glanced at Garrett. His face was stony, the fury from earlier still flickering behind his eyes. She didn’t lower her hand from its place blocking his path.

“ _ Do it _ , Anders!” Karl moved his hands to grip Anders’s shoulders, shaking him hard. Anders slid a dagger out if its sheath at his belt. He held it loosely, as if it were poison. “Before it’s too late.”

“ _ Karl, _ ”  Anders whispered, and slid the blade up into his friend’s heart. Marian felt a surge of magic, and Karl gasped out a wet coughing sound. He collapsed against Anders, who staggered back against the weight. Anders sank to his knees, supporting Karl to the ground. His shoulders shook as he curled around Karl’s body, tucking his face in the juncture at the base of Karl’s neck.

“We need to get out of here before more Templars come,” Garrett said, voice overly loud in the chilling night air. Marian dropped her hand as he turned away, propping his glaive over his shoulder. His footsteps echoed across the courtyard, shortly joined by Carver’s.

“We might be able to get his body to Sundermount,” Marian offered quietly, kneeling a little distance from Anders. “Give him a pyre, or a burial.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Anders murmured, brushing Karl’s eyes closed and laying his head gently against the flagstone. “He’s gone, either way.”

Marian stood, holding out her hand to help him up. Anders stared at it uncomprehendingly for a long moment. Then he stood on his own, bending back over to take up his staff from where he’d dropped it. 

The walk back to Darktown was slow, sloppy, and far less cautious than Marian would have liked. Anders didn’t seem to notice when a patrol of guards or Templars marched around a corner. He didn’t resist when Marian nudged him into the shadows, standing beside him until the patrols passed. Varric walked a little behind them, watching their backs. He tapped Marian’s elbow when they were almost to Darktown, gesturing towards another street with his chin. Marian pulled Anders towards an alleyway. Moments later, the familiar glimmer of lantern-lit armor came around the corner. A patrol of four guards, Aveline’s ginger hair immediately recognizable in the dim light.

They waited until the patrol passed to cross the street to one of the stairways leading into Darktown. Undefinable shapes moved in the darkness as they made their way between the shanty houses and heaps of garbage. Marian was tempted to call up a magelight, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to face the potential consequences. So they stumbled across the uneven ground and the rickety stairs to Anders’s clinic.

The lantern above the door was unlit, the wall barely definable from the dead, dark air around it. Marian stepped ahead of Anders when he came to a quiet stop. She ran her hand across the wall until she found the handle. She fumbled with it for a moment before she realized it was locked. Not that it would do much good in a place like Darktown.

“Do you have the key, Anders?” Marian asked. The shape of dark that made up Ander’s frame shifted, and something metal clinked. He held a key out to her, and only then did Marian dare summon a magelight. It was a small thing, barely worthy of the name, but it did the job. Marian found the keyhole and unlocked the door, swinging it wide open and dismissing the light in a short fizzle of magic. 

A dim lantern wavered at the end of the room, and a figure shifted.

“Anders, is that you?”

Anders didn’t move. Marian came around behind him, touching his elbow lightly. “We’re here.”

“Who’s there?” The lantern lifted off the ground, up to eye level. The woman holding it paced quickly into the doorway.

“Anders is here,” Marian said. The lantern swung around into her face, and Marian recognized Nane once her eyes adjusted. “He’s… It didn’t go well.”

Nane looked Anders up and down with veiled worry. “Is that blood?”

“ It didn’t go well. He isn’t hurt, though, that I know of,” Marian said as Nane led Anders through the door.  _ Not physically, at least. _

“Don’t come back,” Nane said, turning to face Marian. Anders wavered behind her.

The door swung shut.

  


“ You didn’t mention the fact that your Warden friend was  _ possessed, _ ”  Garrett hissed, pinning Marian against the wall just inside the door of Gamlen’s house. Carver sat hunched in front of the dying coals in the fireplace, back turned.

“How was I supposed to know?” Marian snapped, voice low. “Is that how I’m supposed to greet other mages? Hey, I need you for something, oh, and are you possessed?”

“ He’s the kind of mage that makes the Chantry hunt us all down,” Garrett’s grip tightened around Marian’s arms and he leaned in, nose inches from Marian’s. “He’ll get us  _ killed. _ Or made Tranquil. Did you see that other mage? He was  _ dead. _ There was nothing left in that shell, Marian.”

“Get off of me, Garrett.”

“You need to understand this. What did Father always tell us? Don’t listen to the spirits, he said. They’ve got nothing, and they want what you have because you have everything,” Garrett gave her a harsh shake. “Stay away from that mage, Marian. Stay away from him or I’ll report him to the Chantry.”

Marian shoved Garrett away, backing him a few steps until they stood nose-to-nose again. Her hands shook, and she wasn’t sure whether it was rage or fear that coursed through her veins, but she was going to let it out. “He’s a  _ healer, _ Garrett. He’s got a free medical clinic set up in Darktown. There are people down there loyal enough to fight and die for him. Does he  _ look _ like an abomination?”

“You’ll know it when you see it, Father said,” Garrett snapped, his face twisted into a snarl. “That was no normal magic. That was nothing natural.”

“Marian? Garrett?” Leandra’s voice, slow with sleep, came from the doorway to one of the two bedrooms. “It’s in the middle of the night. Whatever you two are fighting about can wait until morning.”

“This discussion isn’t over,” Garrett said, holding up a finger in Marians’ face. “I’m not letting this slide.”

“ I think you’re the one who was so enthusiastic with  _ Flemeth, _ ”  Marian growled, stalking past Leandra and into their shared room. “I don’t see how that’s different.”

Something hit the wall with a dull thump, and Drake skittered into the room after her, whining. Leandra sat on her cot, pulling the thin, tattered blanket over her shoulders as Marian stripped off her leathers and settled on her nest of blankets on the floor. Drake pressed up against her side as she lay down, snuffling against her arm. 

“ You’re not going to sleep with Garrett?” She asked him in a low whisper. He let out a long whine that ended in a little  _ whuff. _ “ No, I wouldn’t want to either.”

  


Marian didn’t wake until well after the sun had risen. Drake was still settled beside her when she opened her eyes to the cheery sight of the rickety ceiling of Gamlen’s home. The Mabari was snoring like a Lowtown merchant-- loudly and completely, blissfully unaware of how utterly obnoxious he was being. Marian slipped out of bed, trying not to rouse the dog. Drake snorted and rolled over onto the vacated blankets, burying his nose in the rough fabric. Marian took a brief moment to pull at her clothing. She hadn’t changed into sleeping clothes the night before, and her shirt smelled like Darktown. She sighed and peeled it off, tossing it on top of Drake and changing into a slightly fresher shirt from her pack.

Gamlen and Leandra sat across from each other at the small dinner table in the living area. They looked up when Marian dragged herself out of the room.

“Athenril sent a letter for you and your brothers,” Gamlen said, jerking his thumb towards the writing desk. “The two of ‘em stormed out before I could say so.”

“What happened last night?” Leandra asked.

Marian blinked, taking a moment to process the words and figure out who to respond to first. “Good morning to you, too?”

Gamlen grumbled something into the mug of dark liquid in his hand. Marian made her way to the writing desk, flipping open the letter. The little blob of wax had been broken-- unsurprising considering the way Gamlen treated anything in the reach of his grabby hands as his own. 

“They did leave unusually early,” Leandra said, her you-should-be-explaining-by-now tone all too clear. Marian read the letter through before responding. Athenril was referring her to someone named Anso. A job. Key phrase being “he pays well.” Marian couldn’t remember if it was something important-- she’d taken so many jobs in order to gather up the coin for the Deep Roads that they all meshed together in her memory. She could probably take Varric, and maybe con Isabella into coming if she could find her.

“Garrett and I had a disagreement about a contact,” Marian answered at last. She eyed the bread and cheese on the table between Leandra and Gamlen, but decided that food could wait until she had the coin to replace it. Money went through their fingers like water when they had so little of it. “It’ll get worked out.”

She’d give Anders a day or two to calm down, after all, they technically barely knew each other. He’d been a wreck the last time she’d seen him after Karl’s death, and she had waited nearly a solid week after to try to get the Deep Roads maps from him. She wouldn’t wait that long this time, and she wouldn’t badger him about the maps. 

The least she could do today was look into the job for Anso. If she couldn’t pick up a backup blade or two, she’d just get information. She tucked the letter into her pocket and retrieved her leathers, strapping on her boots. The scimitar sat propped near the door, and Marian glared at it. It was hardly worth taking, but not carrying a weapon was nearly as bad an idea as running around stark naked, or carrying her coin around in her hands. She picked it up as Drake trotted over.

“You want to come, mutt?” She asked. The dog positioned himself next to the door, snuffling at the frame. “Did that mean old Garrett not take you out on his adventures?”

The mabari let out a quiet, mournful howl.

“I’ll take you. He doesn’t give you nearly as much love as you deserve,” Marian ruffled Drake’s ears and opened the door, stepping out into the sunlight. The mabari bounced out to the top of the stairway down to the street, panting happily. “Yeah, that’s way too bright. How about we just go back to bed?”

Drake turned, ears drooping.

“I’m joking. We’ve got work to do.”

Lowtown was always busiest in the morning, before the heat of the afternoon hit. Dockworkers, merchants, mercenaries, and a wide variety of other productive members of society milled about in the streets, bumping into each other either intentionally or not on their way to their respective destinations. The Hanged Man wasn’t far from Gamlen’s house, and to Marian’s surprise, it was unusually empty when she walked in. 

A small knot of men were gathered around the bar, weapons strapped to their sides and backs. “Me an’ my boys will get our money’s worth,  _ bitch, _ ”  a voice rang out. Marian ambled across the tavern to stand a small distance behind them. Isabella stood at the center of the gathering, shoulders loose despite the looming presence of the armed men. She leaned towards the man who had her arm pinned to the bar, eyes soft. 

“Oh, you poor, sweet thing,” she said, then grabbed him by the arm and swung his face down to hit the counter. She released him with a rough shove, and he staggered back, tripping over a chair to hit the floor with a crash.

Marian chuckled. She  _ loved _ this part.

Isabella whipped around when one of the other men tried to grab her, dodging the bottle that came down in the hands of another. The bottle smashed into the man’s head, and Isabella dodged around him as he fell, punching the second man in the nose twice in quick succession. Marian leaned up against the bar, nudging the groaning man with bottle shards in his hair out of the way. Drake let out a threatening snarl.

“Tell me, Lucky, Is this worth dying for?” Isabella asked slowly, quietly as she brought the tip of her blade to the first man’s neck. He growled, edging around her and making for the door. The other two followed, sputtering curses.

Isabella returned to her drink at the bar, taking a drink and smirking. “Didn’t think so.”

“Pleasure to see you again,” Marian said. “That was an impressive display. Do you always get in fights in the morning?”

“Just on days when the sun comes up,” Isabella replied.

“A woman after my own heart,” Marian gestured to the bartender. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

“You’re Ferelden, aren’t you?” Isabella tilted her head. “You’ve got that look about you.”

“ What, the starving, diseased, jobless refugee look? I’ve heard it’s in style, what with all the people in Kirkwall who’ve got it,” Marian knocked back the contents of the mug the bartender slid at her. It was  _ unfathomably _ bitter, and she wasn’t entirely certain what it was besides alcoholic. She kept her expression neutral when Isabella raised an eyebrow. Marian wondered what would happen if she slipped the rest to Drake.

“You know, I might be able to fix the jobless part,” Isabella set her mug down on the counter and turned to face Marian.

“Go on,” Marian said. She sloshed the remaining liquid around the bottom of her mug and downed it. Better than nothing.

“Someone from my past has been...”

“Ruining the beautiful Lowtown mornings with fights? Ah, I couldn’t let such a blasphemy go unavenged,” Marian flipped a coin towards the bartender, watching it go with a mild expression of tragedy. 

“Yes. I’ve arranged for a duel. If I win, he’ll leave me alone. But I doubt he’ll play fair,” Isabella tilted her head back to look at the ceiling. “I need someone to watch my back.”

“Well, we’re in a similar position then,” Marian said. “Tell you what, I’m looking into a job, and despite the fact that I do have a truly splendid mabari, it’s always nice to have someone at my back who can enjoy the view. I’ll do it for you if you do it for me.”

“Sounds like we have a deal,” Isabella chuckled. “I’ve arranged to meet Hayder in Hightown tonight. I’ve got some time to kill.”

“Perfect. Do you happen to know if Varric’s around?” Marian glanced up the stairs, catching a glimpse of the closed door to the dwarf’s suite. Maybe she should let him sleep.

“ Actually, that brother of yours dragged him out of here at a truly  _ unholy _ hour this morning. I don’t even know what I was doing here that early, much less what he was,” Isabella shrugged, following Marian’s gaze. “Seemed ready to rip someone’s throat out-- wouldn’t want to know what got him looking that way.”

_ Anders.  _

Marian scrambled away from the bar, tripping over one of the chairs upended by Isabella’s fight. She caught herself and made for the door. Garrett  _ wouldn’t. _

She made it to the stairs to Darktown before she realized Isabela was following her. Marian ground to a halt, whipping around and stalking up to the Rivaini. 

“I don’t know if you take issue with mages,” a lie. Isabela hadn’t ever made it a problem. “But if you do, now’s the time to back out.”

“What, exactly, is going on?” The constant flicker of mirth in Isabela’s eyes died down, quickly replaced with focus.

“A friend might be in danger,” Marian turned, clattering down the stairs and hitting the ground running. Drake kept pace, head low and ears back.

The lantern outside Anders’s clinic was dark, the door closed. Marian crashed against it, twisting the handle and shoving it with her shoulder. It was locked. Marian pounded her fist against the wood.

“Anders! Nane!” She hissed through the doorway, as loud as she dared.

“We’re closed,” Nane’s sharp voice came from the other side of the door. “Go to Lirene in Lowtown.”

“Nane, it’s Marian Hawke. From yesterday,” Marian pressed her palm flat against the doorway. “Anders might be in danger.”

There was a long moment of silence from inside the clinic.

The door clicked open, and Nane’s face appeared in the narrow opening, red with fury. “I know he’s in danger. No thanks to  _ you.  _ He’ll be in more danger if you stand there and shout all day long.”

“He’s all right now, though?” Marian glanced back at Isabela, who wore a mildly bemused expression. Isabella shrugged.

“Depends on your definition of all right,” Nane let out a long sigh. She leaned against the door. “He needs some time. He’s been in Kirkwall for months, and his only goal has been… to succeed in what you failed in last night.”

“Have you seen my brother around here?” Marian asked.

Nane’s eyebrows shot up. “Am I supposed to keep track of him? I don’t even know who your brother is.”

Garrett hadn’t been aiming for Anders when he’d left in the morning. Marian had sort of known it when she’d seen Nane at the door, but the flighty remnant of panic was still beating against her chest. She let the silence drag out for a long moment. “If you need anything, send a message to Gamlen Amell’s in Lowtown.”

Nane laughed humorlessly. “Believe me, I’ve had half of Darktown at this door offering just about the same thing since last night. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The door clicked shut.

“I can see that you two are truly the best of friends,” Isabela commented.

Marian let out a small sound of wordless frustration and banged her head against the doorway. She was going to have to have a long talk with Garrett next time she saw him. This waiting for him to make a wrong move was wearing her nerves thin. “Does that count as my half of our deal, or can I drag you back to Lowtown?”

“If every future adventure with you is going to be equally thrilling, you can consider me yours for life,” Isabela said, scratching Drake’s underside with the toe of her boot. The mabari moaned happily.


	4. Chapter 4

Anso wasn’t hard to find. After asking around a little, Marian and Isabela learned that the dwarf was staying at an inn just off of the Lowtown bazaar. 

It wasn’t until she caught a glimpse of him sitting at a small table in the back of the inn that Marian realized who he was. Anso was the dwarf who Fenris had hired to spring Danarius’s trap. 

An unexpected lump formed in the back of Marian’s throat. Her Kirkwall crew hadn’t been together for nearly four years. Fenris was the only one she hadn’t seen now that she’d gone back. Despite his initial, valiant attempts to prevent it, the prickly elf had become just as much family to Marian as her own blood relatives.

Marian weaved between the scuffed chairs and tables to sit across from the dwarf. Anso glanced up at the intrusion, well-acted fear glittering behind his eyes. Considering the fact that it was  _ Fenris _ who hired him, the fear might not be as much acting as Marian assumed.

“Sweet mother of-- Who are-”

“ We heard you were looking for a little help,” Marian cut him off, leaning against her elbows on the table. Isabela dragged another chair up to the table, flipping it backwards and sitting on it. Drake plopped to the ground at Marian’s side with an audible  _ huff. _

“Are you the one that smuggler told me about? The one looking for work?” Anso shuffled his chair away from the table a little. He glanced from Isabela to Marian and back again.

“That’s me,” Marian said.

“Yes, ah,” Anso glanced around pointedly. There weren’t any other patrons within earshot, so Marian ignored the hint.

An awkward silence settled around them for a moment.

“Do you have the job or not?” Isabela asked.

“Yes, I do!” Anso said quickly. “Some product of mine has been, erm, misplaced. The men who were supposed to deliver it… didn’t. If you retrieve my property, I could reward you handsomely?”

Marian could see how she’d been unsuspicious about the dwarf the first time. He sounded like someone who’d tried to dabble on the the more lucrative side of the law without realizing that it required  _ breaking  _ the law.

“We’ll do it, if your coin is good,” Marian leaned back with a small smile.

“I don’t mean to be the voice of reason,” Isabela tapped her fingers on the top of her chair. “But we don’t even know what he’s asking us to retrieve.”

“The goods are valuable,” Anso glanced over Marian’s shoulder again. “And illegal. My client wants them very badly. You know how these Templars can be.”

“Lyrium,” Isabela muttered.

If Marian hadn’t known it was a setup, she would have backed out there. She’d been desperate for the money last time, uncaring as to where it came from and why. Now, the thought of Templars clawing out their own eyeballs for want of lyrium brought a twinge of smug satisfaction. More so than a handful of coin would.

“Makes no difference to me,” Marian said.

“You’ll help? Excellent, now, the men conduct their business in a little hovel in the Alienage. If you have to kill them, then I guess it can’t be avoided.” Anso took a deep breath. “But I’m sure they’ll be reasonable.”

“ I believe I know the one,” Marian nodded.  _ Whether you like it or not, Fenris, here I come. _

  


Garrett hadn’t come home by the time Marian and Isabela were ready to depart to Hightown for Isabela’s duel. Carver had, however, and was less than willing to join them.

“So Garrett drags me around all day and you want to drag me around all night,” he threw up his hands, retreating towards the back of Gamlen’s house. “Am I only useful to you when I’m hitting something with a sword?”

A biting quip stopped just short of Marian’s lips. Carver got enough of that from Garrett. She followed her brother across the dirt floor, leaving Isabela in the doorway. “I’m not going to force you to come with us, Carver--”

“Damn right, you’re not forcing me to do anything.”

“But it would be nice to have another blade when we’re walking into an ambush.”

“So we’re knowingly walking into ambushes two nights in a row now. Is this going to be one of our little traditions?”

Marian clenched her fists slowly. The last time Marian had seen Carver, he had been much more reasonable. Being a Warden tempered him, at least a little. “Carver, just give me a yes or a no.”

Carver stopped with his back to Marian, his shoulders bent forward. “Fine.”

Despite his assent, Carver spent the entire walk to Hightown bitching about, it seemed, anything and everything that came to mind. Isabela needled him when she could get a word in, winking at Marian when Carver reached the point of visibly holding himself back from strangling her.

Just like old times.

Hayder wasn’t there when they reached the courtyard in front of the Chantry at the appointed time. Nor was he there several hours later. Isabela had been silent for a while, and Carver had fallen to quiet after he realized that nobody was paying attention to him.

It was funny how Kirkwall was such a large city, and yet everything important seemed to happen in the same places. 

The flagstone where Karl and the Templars had bled out and died was clean, not a trace of last night’s fight to be found. Marian wondered what had been done with the bodies. Maybe she’d ask Aveline later.

Probably not.

The cold night air moaned around the Hightown buildings, catching at the lanterns that lit the streets. 

    “ How long are we going to stand here?” Carver asked, rocking from one foot to the other. Drake glanced up from his place at Marian’s feet and panted. “Shall we, I don’t know, write out a big sign saying ‘ambush us already so we can go home and sleep’?”

    “ Isabela,” a voice came from the Chantry steps. A man with a long face and a greasy ponytail made his way towards them, leading a band of armed mercenaries. Marian didn’t recognize him-- she’d only known him long enough to watch Isabela run a dagger through his throat-- but she knew it was Hayder. “I thought you might have packed up and ran.”

    “ Says the man hours late to his own funeral,” Isabela shot back.

    “ You know, Castillion was  _ heartbroken _ when he heard about the shipwreck,” Hayder said, spreading his hands. “You really should have let him know you survived.”

    “ It must have slipped my mind,” Isabela said. 

Carver pulled his sword off of his back, holding it low and ready. Marian left her scimitar hanging on her belt.  _ Maker, please don’t let any Templars poke their heads out of the Chantry or around the corner or anything. _

“Where’s the relic?” Hayder snapped. The mercenaries fanned out behind him, hands on their weapons. 

“I lost it. You may have heard about a shipwreck?”

“ Yes, right.  _ Lost it. _ Like you  _ lost _ a ship full of valuable cargo?”

Three men behind Hayder, one woman. Marian couldn’t see any more hiding in the shadows of the Chantry, but that didn’t mean anything. She should have tried to pick up Aveline.

“ They weren’t cargo, Hayder, they were  _ people, _ ”  Isabela’s voice went high and loud as she stepped forward. 

“ Those slaves were worth a hundred sovereigns a head,” Hayder paced, eyes narrowing. “And you let them scurry off into the wilds. Now the relic’s gone, too. Castillion won’t be happy to hear  _ that _ .”

Whoever it was that cleaned the streets of Hightown wasn’t going to be happy. “Isabela is with me and mine, now,” Marian said, lowering her chin and looking Hayder straight in the eye. “If you have a quarrel with her, you have to go through me.”

“Well then,” Hayder smiled, putting his hand on the blade at his hip. “You’re the one who asked for it.”

Lightning fast, Isabella threw a dagger into the chest of the woman standing beside him. She sputtered out a choked-off cry and collapsed backwards. The sound of steel on steel rang out through the night as Carver swept forward to meet the blade of one of the mercenaries.

Marian called lightning to her fingertips, pulling the fade as little as she could, and dodged around the reach of a pair of daggers, touching the crackling energy to the back of a man’s neck. She misjudged the power of the strike, her focus more on keeping her magic low-key than killing the man on the first strike. The mercenary whipped around, catching Marian’s forearm with the curved edge of his blade. As he brought the other blade up towards her neck, a dagger sprouted from his throat. He staggered backwards, crumpling to the ground. 

Hayder and Carver were locked in combat, Hayder’s speed keeping him out of range of Carver’s longer sword. Isabela stood off to the side. She met Marian’s eyes and nodded, holding up a dagger identical to the one that had taken down Marian’s attacker.

Carver maneuvered himself around Hayder, putting the man’s back to Isabela.Without hesitating, the Rivaini darted forwards and brought her dagger up and across Hayder’s throat. Blood spattered against Carver’s armor.

“ Aaaagh,” Carver growled as Hayder collapsed. He sheathed his sword and looked down at the dark liquid dripping down his chest. “I just cleaned everything this morning. Maybe, someday, I’ll go a single day, just one, without getting  _ blood _ all over me.”

“Tell you what, Carver,” Marian said, glancing up the Chantry steps and tucking her injured arm against her chest. “I’ll clean it for you.”

“You’ve always just-- Wait, what?”

“You heard me.”

Isabela knelt to draw her dagger out of the fallen woman’s chest. She wiped the blade on the woman’s shirt and tugged the coin pouch off of the woman’s belt. “Castillion isn’t going to hear about me from Hayder, but he’ll get word eventually.”

“I’ll help you get Castillion off of your back,” Marian mirrored Isabela’s move and snatched the coin pouch from Hayder’s belt. Carver made a disgusted noise in the background. “But I’ll probably ask a favor or two of you in the future.”

“I’m not keen on getting into debt with anyone else,” Isabela replied, sheathing her daggers. “I think you understand why.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of mandatory Wicked Grace nights every week or two,” Marian said.

“It’s lovely that you’re making friends, sister, but standing around corpses in front of the Chantry isn’t really what I’d call a bonding moment,” Carver prodded at the wide gash on Marian’s arm. She flinched away. “We need to get out of here.”

  


Marian’s ability for healing magic was utterly  _ dismal. _ It was like bending a joint in a way it wasn’t supposed to go. She spent about five minutes trying to repair the deep, narrow slash on her arm after Carver had stripped off his armor and disappeared into the back room. She tugged harder on the fade, and warmth seeped into her fingertips. That wasn’t healing magic, that was  _ fire _ magic. She growled and returned the blood soaked cloth to the injury.

The click of a key in the front door caught her attention, and she stood as the door creaked open. Garrett stepped in, glaive clenched tight in his hand. He closed the door behind him, leaning his head on the wood and sliding the bolt back. 

Marian watched her brother for a long moment before sitting down. The motion caught Garrett’s attention and he turned.

“You’re hurt,” he said abruptly.

A selection of sarcastic responses jumped immediately to mind. Marian was too tired to pick one, so she dismissed them, holding the cloth more tightly to her arm. “We’re out of medical supplies.”

Garrett cursed. “That was what I forgot.”

“Garrett, we need to talk,” Marian said, wedging herself more firmly upright against the wall. Garrett propped his glaive against the wall and shucked off his gloves, dropping them to the ground after a moment of consideration.

“No, we don’t.”

“Anders-”

“Marian, I don’t care. I really don’t,” Garrett slid down the wall to sit beside her. He gestured at her arm, and she pulled back the cloth a little. A trickle of blood crept down towards her fingers. He took her arm gently and moved the cloth. His hands glowed an icy white-blue, and Marian bit back a gasp as the healing magic probed into the wound. 

“Where did-” She should probably know that Garrett knew healing magic. Marian cut herself off and watched as the edges of the wound slowly knit themselves together under the heavy flow of energy.

“I went out on a couple of jobs,” Garrett replied quietly, misunderstanding her words. “Carver was with me for the first one. We just roughed up a few thugs who robbed a house in Lowtown. He left after that. Went to get food for Mother and Gamlen with the coin it brought us. I think it was for the better.”

Marian hummed under her breath. Garrett’s healing magic felt sharp and hot, like needles. Anders’s healing was always cool, refreshing and soft against her skin.

Garrett took a ragged breath, pulling away for a moment. He ran his hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. “Have you seen what the Qunari do to their mages?”

Marian kept silent. She hadn’t seen any Qunari mages since her time in her own Kirkwall. The thought of the chains and shackles, stitches and silence forced upon them made her sick.

“I thought the Tranquil yesterday...” Garrett leaned into Marian’s shoulder for support, head bowed. “There was a notice on the Chanter’s board. Vague enough to be interesting. Met a Chantry sister, Petra something or other. She had a Qunari mage, called him Ketojan. Wanted me to get him out of the city.”

Petrice. The  _ bitch _ . A sudden image of a Qunari arrow tearing through the air to plant itself between Petrice’s eyes flashed through her mind. It was only too bad that Marian hadn’t been with Garrett-- she would have knifed the monster.  _ Damn _ the consequences.

“It was a setup, of course. Apparently there’s a whole faction of people who are just itching to start a war with the Qunari. She was trying to use our deaths to incite it. But that’s--” Garrett snapped his jaw shut, glaring at the wall across the room. Marian felt him pull violently on the fade as he called the burning healing magic back again. He set it to Marian’s arm.

Marian flinched. It took everything she had not to pull away.

“ He was chained, like an animal. They stitched his mouth shut. They--” Garrett hissed between his teeth, fury tainting his eyes. “He was so convinced that he was  _ worthless _ , that he was a monster, that he burned himself to  _ death _ when I told him he was free.”

Marian couldn’t think of anything to say that would have helped her when she was in Garrett’s position. Everything she could think of would just fan the flames. “We can’t do anything about the way the Qunari treat their mages,” she said slowly. “But there has to be a way we can prevent the Circles from doing the same.”

Garrett let out a loud, harsh laugh. 

Something slammed against the wall in Gamlen’s room. The man’s voice followed. “Shut up! I’m trying to sleep.”

“ The Circles are a step away. That Tranquil last night? He said he’d rather die than live empty,” Garrett glanced down, releasing his grip on the fade and letting the healing magic die out when he saw that Marian’s arm was mostly healed. “They’re hunting  _ us. _ ”

“We can do something about it,” Marian said. That had been the biggest barrier for her. That was why Anders had blown up the Chantry. She’d thought she couldn’t do anything about it. She and every other mage in Thedas. Anders saw the need for a catalyst, so he became a catalyst. He wouldn’t have to sacrifice himself this time. It wouldn’t be on his shoulders. “Garrett, we can do it.”

“ Every time a faction of mages starts an uprising, it just makes the Chantry crush them harder,” Garrett snapped. “Father said to keep our heads down. That’s what he always said. When you see a Templar coming after you, you  _ run. _ You don’t fight them.”

“We killed seven of them last night,” Marian said. “They bleed like you and I.”

“They do, don’t they?”

“We’ll have to wait out the Qunari, though. Starting a war would look like a weakness,” Marian flexed her fingers, turning her arm to make sure everything still worked. “Once they’re gone, we’ll have room to move.”

“We could always make them gone,” Garrett suggested with forced lightness.

“I’m sure something will set this powder keg of a city off sooner or later,” Marian stood, offering her newly healed arm to help Garrett up. He clasped her hand and levered himself up.

“We should get out of town before we become the spark,” he said grimly.

  


Marian managed to spend the entirety of the next day cleaning the dried blood off of Carver’s armor. Garrett had laughed at her over breakfast when Carver reminded her of her promise, and she’d chucked her empty bowl at his head. He’d dodged, and it had hit Gamlen.

Sitting in the hot sun outside of Gamlen’s house with a rag and a set of blood-encrusted armor for hours on end made Marian reconsider her life choices. She’d cleaned her own armor before, all the way up until Orana had made it her life’s mission to get to anything dirty before Marian could. Marian knew how to do it, but Carver’s armor was a hodgepodge of pieces they’d collected in their year of smuggling. It wasn’t made well, and had all sorts of nooks and crannies that were nearly impossible to reach.

Maybe the Deep Roads expedition was worth it only if for the good gear they’d be able to afford afterwards. 

Isabela had swung by to make sure she was still alive. After sitting through the second bout of laughter at her expense that day, Marian dragged the clean(er) armor back into the house and left it on Carver’s bed. She and Isabela spent the day pretending they didn’t have more pressing matters, and inspected all of the ships at the docks. Isabela’s eyes showed a bit of melancholy when Marian had first suggested it, but she quickly fell into describing the pros and cons of each ship and explaining their anatomy to a bemused but attentive Marian. Marian had declared that she would get Isabela her own ship again someday, and Isabela had laughed.

She’d asked to go on the Anso job when she and Marian had run across Garrett and Carver in the evening. Marian explained the job, and they dropped briefly by Gamlen’s house to gear up before trekking to the Alienage.

The Elven quarter was quiet, abnormally so. Marian tried to catch a glimpse of Merrill’s house, but their destination was on the opposite side of the Alienage. The sight of the decorated tree in the center of the courtyard made Marian feel guilty. She hadn’t visited Merrill since she’d made sure the little Dalish elf had a home to settle into.

The abandoned house where Anso had told them the smugglers operated was tucked in the back of the quarter, between two smaller houses. There weren’t any lights lit in any of the houses down the small street.

“I’m smelling ambush night three,” Carver muttered under his breath as Marian put her hand on the door. It was unlocked.

“You’re not wrong,” Marian said, pushing it open and jumping back. The main room of the building was utterly empty. Empty crates lay scattered across the floor, and an upended table sat wedged against the wall. “Any volunteers to go in first?”

“Dearest sister, since it was by your initiative that we--”

“Shut up, Garrett,” Marian said, and stepped forward from the cobblestone street to the dirt floor. Nothing moved, and Marian wondered if she’d gotten the location wrong. She crept up to the door at the back of the room and swung it wide. 

Nothing.

“This was a waste of time,” Carver growled, and booted in the next door.

A glass vial lit with fire came flying out of the darkness, and Marian cast a spell that called the dirt up into an arc of spikes towards the doorway. Isabela reached out and snagged the vial out of the air, flinging it back into the side room. It exploded in a burst of white-hot fire, and a scream rent the night air. 

“ Good job blocking the damn door, Marian!” Carver shouted as an arrow flew between the spines and embedded itself in the opposite wall.  _ What’s an archer even doing in an indoor fight? _

Marian jerked the spikes out of the ground with a burst of energy from the fade and sent them flying into the other room. 

Garrett had harnessed the fire from the grenade and was feeding it magic. It spilled out the door with a trio of mercenaries, and Marian reeled backwards to get out of range.

“ Garrett, quit it with the fire!” Marian snapped. The fire swept back with a sweep of Garrett’s staff, and ice crackled across the floor to freeze two of the mercenaries in place. Carver caught the third with a sweep of his sword, and the man hit the ground screaming. Another strike of Carver’s blade and another judicious application of Garrett’s ice magic silenced the rest. 

“I don’t get to see mages in action nearly enough,” Isabela commented appreciatively as Garrett whirled his glaive in an overly-elaborate pattern before tilting it back over his shoulder.

Garrett ignored her, extinguishing the flames licking up the flimsy walls and stalking into the room the mercenaries had been waiting in. He smashed the lock off of the chest in the corner and kicked it open. “It’s empty. The whole place is empty. I doubt Anso will be happy to pay us for this.”

_ We’ll get paid in a different sort of way, _ Marian thought smugly. “Oh well,” she said with exaggerated sarcasm. “It’s not like we had anything else to do tonight. We might as well go for the ‘most nights ambushed in a row’ award. They have those, don’t they? They should, in Kirkwall.”

Garrett shook his head and brushed past her on his way back into the main room. Marian trailed behind with Carver and Isabela as they headed towards the door. Garrett froze in the doorway. An arc of  _ way too many _ armed men stood just outside the door.

_ Oh yeah. This part. _

Carver peered over Garrett’s shoulder and then slumped back with an exasperated groan. “That’s two ambushes. This counts as two nights. I’m never leaving the house after dark again.”

“That’s not the elf!” The woman at the head of the group snapped.

“It doesn’t matter, we were told to kill whoever enters the house,” the man at her side drew his weapon, readying it as the men around him did the same.

“Back,” Garrett roared. “Use the door as a gauntlet.”

Marian reached out to the Fade, drawing power through herself and loosing an arc of lightning into the midst of their attackers.  _ Maker _ she missed having a proper staff. 

Garrett followed the attack with a sweep of intense flame that ringed the inside of the doorway. Isabela stumbled back from the fire, blocking her face with her arm. Carver yelped and smacked Garrett with his elbow as he jumped away. An arrow  _ disintegrated _ as it shot through the fire.

“What are you doing, men? Does a little fire scare you?” The leader cried out. One of the men valiantly rushed towards the wall of flame. He slowed and wheeled away as Garrett tore the Fade wider and forced more power into the fire.

Marian took a moment to contemplate the damages, then called up another arc of spikes to surround the men from behind. The cobblestones cracked as the sheer power of the Fade crushed and twisted them to Marian’s will. A twinge started in Marian’s chest. She wasn’t using her power conservatively, and neither was Garrett. They’d both tire soon.

“Last chance to run!” Marian shouted, dropping a set of spines to make a pathway out.

“What are you doing?” Isabela snapped.

Garrett swayed and dropped the wall of flame as three men fled through the exit Marian made. The rest stood still, warily holding their blades at the ready. Then the woman at the front charged and the rest followed.

At the last second, Garrett called back the fire in the midst of the men. Marian pulled what little elemental magic she possessed into feeding the flames alongside her brother. 

Screams and the smell of burning flesh floated into the air as the men burned alive. Several kept moving through the fire, desperation driving them forwards. Carver struck out with his blade, catching one across the chest as Isabela finished the other off with a dagger.

The fire faded with the screams, and Garrett listed to the side. Carver caught him as he fell. 

“We just killed a lot of people,” Garrett whispered, then passed out.

“Moron,” Carver muttered.

“What did he do that for?” Isabela asked, tilting her head at Garrett’s still form.

“Too much magic at once,” Marian supplied, picking up Garrett’s glaive. The handle was charred and hot where he had been holding it. It wasn’t irreparable, but Marian grimaced at the damage. “He should know better than that. He’s going to have a migraine when he wakes up.”

Carver set Garrett on the ground and sheathed his sword, staring down at his brother with thinly veiled disgust. “Anybody else want to carry him?”

“Not really,” Marian and Isabela said in unison.

Carver hauled Garrett over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and stepped over the singed corpses. He paused to survey the destruction Marian’s stone spikes had wrought on the narrow street. “Who has to clean this up?”

“I’ll come back tomorrow to help,” Marian sighed, stretching her arms out. Using earth magic always made her muscles ache. Isabela raised an eyebrow. “This has nothing to do with the elves. Why should they pay for it?”

If it were possible, the Alienage was deader than when they’d first entered. Kirkwall was the only place Marian had ever lived where doors closed and locked when people screamed. She didn’t blame them, but the collective attitude was probably one of the promotional factors for local crime. All the better. Marian didn’t have the energy to explain any of this to angry neighbors.

The clank of armor sounded out ahead and a man stepped out from behind the tree in the center of the courtyard. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, friend, but you’ve make a big mistake in coming.”

“I take back everything I said that implied you were boring,” Isabela muttered to Marian. “You can stop trying to prove me wrong now.”

Marian couldn’t resist. She leaned towards Isabela with a grin. “No, no, watch this. This is my favorite part.”

“Leiutenant! I want everyone in the clearing! Now!” The man shouted. 

A man staggered around the corner, blood streaming down his side. “Captain,” he said, and collapsed.

“Your men are dead,” Fenris stalked around the corner, both arms coated in blood up to the elbows. He held his head high and proud, his eyes icy. “And your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you still can.”

Fenris paced past the man in armor to stand in front of Marian. He narrowed his eyes at Garrett’s limp form.

“ You’re going nowhere,  _ slave, _ ”  the man snarled, grabbing Fenris’s shoulder.

In a movement nearly too fast to see, Fenris’s tattoos lit and his arm went through the man’s chest. Fenris ripped his hand back, letting the man collapse to the ground. “I am  _ not _ a slave.”

Marian bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. The battle wasn’t over yet-- she might have earned a little of Fenris’s respect, but she had yet to earn his friendship. 

The crew was back together.

The thump of a body hitting the ground sounded out behind her, and Marian turned to see Carver kneeling next to Garrett’s limp form. “I assume we’re going to get some sort of explanation. I’m not going to hold him for an hour while we talk whatever this is out.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “He is your companion, yes? Is he alive?”

“He’s not going to be after I strangle him when he wakes up,” Carver snapped.

“I… apologize,” Fenris said, stepping a little closer to get a better look at Garrett. “When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they’d be so… numerous.”

“Just another day in Kirkwall. We eat mercenaries for breakfast. Maker knows there’s nothing else to eat around here,” Marian said. Isabela gave her a look.

“So this whole thing was a setup in the first place?” Carver muttered under his breath. He prodded Garrett’s cheek.

“So who are you? Who would go through all this trouble?” Isabela asked.

“My name is Fenris,” Fenris shifted, stepping lightly towards the tree in the center of the courtyard. He tilted his head to look up at the sad, dying branches. “These men were Imperial bounty hunters, seeking to recover a magister’s lost property. Namely myself. I knew I could not face them alone. Thankfully, it seems, Anso chose wisely.”

“Wisely would have been the city guard,” Carver commented. “We should have left Garrett at home.”

“Does this mean we’re not getting paid?” Isabela asked.

That’s not the foot Marian wanted to start on. “Did you ask for payment from those refugees you freed from Castillion?”

“Well, no, I--”

“Basic human decency, Isabela. It’s a requirement for being part of my crew,” Marian gave Isabela a smile in return for the glare she received. “We’re happy to help you, Fenris, all the more if we get to screw over an Imperial magister.”

“ I have met few in my travels who have sought anything more than personal gain,” Fenris chuckled lightly.  He knelt down and dug through the man’s armor, coming up with a letter. He inspected it briefly, then folded it over to inspect the seal. 

_ I know you can’t read. _ “ May I see it?” Marian asked.

Garrett groaned. 

“Andraste’s ass, it took you long enough,” Carver stood and toed Garrett in the ribs. 

Garrett rolled over and pulled himself up onto his knees. Dust coated one side of his head, tinting his hair grey in the dim light. 

“Danarius is here,” Fenris folded the letter and tucked it into his belt. “I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees. I will need your help.”

“I think I missed something,” Garrett said.

“Is this ‘confronting’ going to lead to more fighting?” Carver asked bitterly.

“He is relentless. He’s sent so many hunters I’ve lost count, and before that, he kept me leashed like a Qunari mage, a personal pet to mock Qunari custom,” Fenris squared his shoulders and faced Marian straight on.

“We’ll help,” Garrett said, grabbing Carver’s arm and dragging himself to his feet.

“Do you even have any idea what you’re agreeing to?” Carver brushed Garrett off roughly. Garrett swayed. “You can hardly stand.”

“I heard ‘leashed like a Qunari mage.’ If we’re making it stop, I’ll do anything,” Garrett said. He held out his hand towards Marian, gesturing at the glaive. Marian handed it over, and Garrett leaned heavily on the staff, brushing his fingers over the charred parts.

“Yes, anything like fall on your face,” Marian said. 

Fenris cleared his throat. “I fully intend on killing him.”

“We’re good at that,” Garrett agreed.

“We’ll help you, Fenris,” Marian said. “So long as you give us a chance to dump him somewhere safe.”

“I am safest with you, dearest sister,” Garrett said with pathetically exaggerated passion.

Carver snorted. “And pick up a replacement or two,” he said. “We’re all exhausted. I don’t know what you and Isabela have been doing all day, but Garrett and I were working and I’m not sure how long I’m going to be useful, either.”

“Don’t sound like that, sweet, we were working too,” Isabela replied with a sly smile.

  



	5. Chapter 5

Same as the last time, Danarius wasn’t in the mansion. There were, however, and absurd number of shades and lesser demons for the party to hack their way through before Fenris was satisfied. Marian hadn’t been entirely sure whether hiding the fact that she was a mage was a wise idea, but she her mana had run out after quietly disarming a few magical traps just before they walked through them.

She was glad that they’d taken the time to pick up Varric and Aveline, despite the bitching on the part of the latter about being dragged out of bed at such an hour. She was really as bad with the scimitar as she’d thought, and she caught a questioning look or two from Fenris when he defended her from a badly blocked attack.

He probably wondered how on earth she had become the leader of a group of warriors when she obviously couldn’t fight worth a damn.

When Fenris offered them the valuables left in Danarius’s mansion, Marian didn’t complain. A very large portion of the fifty sovereign partnership fee for the Deep Roads expedition had come from a selection of items from Danarius’s treasures last time, and it looked to be no different this time.

Aveline left in disgust when she realized that everyone else was going to take full advantage of Fenris’s offer. Isabela stopped bitching about being taken advantage of for charity when she found a chest full of exquisite silks. Varric took off pretty quickly, citing the fact that he had enough of his family’s fortune to not need to dig through things likely bought with blood money. Marian took the longest, going through the rooms one by one and checking for any magical snares they might have missed. She made sure to only take what she needed to convert to sovereigns, leaving a large selection of valuables for Fenris to sell as needed. It wasn’t as if she could carry it all, anyway.

When she’d filled the medium sized sack she’d dug out of the kitchen with a miscellaneous assortment of items, she tied it off and left the impressive selection of backup staves hanging in the armory with a wistful sigh. She wanted to take all of them to test them out, but she wouldn’t dare openly carry any of them through Kirkwall, even at night. Marian stood at the front door for a long moment, wishing that she didn’t have to walk all the way back to Lowtown to find a bed. It took a significant amount of internal persuasion for her to get herself out the door. It closed with a click as she left.

“It never ends.”

Marian nearly jumped out of her skin when Fenris’s rough voice came from somewhere to her left. She’d completely forgotten he’d gone outside. She paused, letting the sack over her shoulder  _ thunk _ to the ground.

“I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn. It has always been a plague burned into my flesh and soul.” He continued, pushing himself off of the wall and padded to stand in front of Marian. “And now, I find myself in the company of yet another mage.”

He had noticed. For some reason, Marian had thought herself more subtle than that.

“I should have realized sooner what you really were,” he snarled.

Marian had the overwhelming urge to just lie down and sleep right there on the streets of Hightown. She didn’t want to argue with anyone right now, much less with Fenris about mages. 

“Tell me then, what manner of mage are you? What is it that you seek?”

“All I want is what you want, Fenris,” Marian sighed, hauling the sack up and over her shoulder again. “I want food, shelter, and the right to live without being hunted like an animal.”

She continued walking, hoping beyond hope that he would  _ shut up _ and not make a fight where there didn’t need to be one. 

“I have seen many crimes done in the name of survival,” Fenris continued.

“And I am absolutely certain that some of them have been committed by you,” Marian stopped, but didn’t turn. Fenris was impossible sometimes. Like Carver. Always helpful for life and death matters, but unwilling to cooperate on anything else.

A long silence drew out between them, and Marian was about to try to leave again when Fenris spoke. “I… Imagine I seem ungrateful. If so, I apologize. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

Marian turned around and met his eyes through the darkness. His expression betrayed nothing, but his hands were twitching uncertainly.

“I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt,” Fenris stepped forward, holding out a small pouch. “Here is all my coin, as Anso promised.”

“I don’t want your money, Fenris,” Marian said, waving away the offer. “I don’t want anything from you except a chance to prove myself and the mages I associate with different from the mages you’ve known.”

“A chance sounds fair enough,” Fenris said after a moment. “If you need my assistance, I would offer it. I will be here. If Danarius wants his mansion, he can come and get it.”

  


Marian greatly regretted taking up Fenris’s offer of Danarius’s valuables. After she’d scouted around for the best buyers with Varric, they’d come up with enough coin to seal up the partnership for the Deep Roads. Garrett had made off with the money the moment he could walk properly again, and took Varric to talk Bartrand into letting them come on the expedition.

From what Marian had heard, it had been a very short and loud conversation that ended with a whole lot less money on the Hawke side of things. 

Marian was ready to strangle him.

“You said we would talk about this, Garrett,” Marian cornered him a block away from Gamlen’s house the day after he’d come back crowing about his victory. “That wasn’t just your money.”

“ So now we’re not sharing anymore? That bread you ate this morning was bought with  _ my  _ coin,” Garrett tried to make his way past her, but she shoved him back. He paused for a moment. “I’d like it back, now.”

“This isn’t a seaside trip,” Marian snapped. “We have no idea what might be down there.”

“Yes, we do. There’s going to be money and Darkspawn down there. Money doesn’t just fly into our pockets, Marian. Have you noticed that the Templars have been increasing patrols, lately? I heard they’re a little paranoid after a whole bunch of them were killed in Hightown after dark. It was mages, apparently,” Garrett stepped closer to Marian, crossing his arms. “We cannot afford to stay here. The deal’s been made. Live with it.”

“We haven’t even gotten the Deep Roads maps from Anders,” Marian said.

“That’s not even an excuse. I’ll go get them this afternoon.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Marian hissed out a sigh and moved out of Garrett’s way. 

He started to walk out of the alleyway, but turned and placed his hand on Marian’s shoulder. “I’m not sure what your problem with this expedition is, Marian, but it’s going to go on without us if we decide not to go. It’s an opportunity for a lot of good things, and I think it’s our best choice.”

“We should leave Carver,” Marian said. The least she could do was prevent him from getting the Blight. She wasn’t letting that happen again.

“What?”

“Are we really going to leave Mother home alone? Carver’s safe from the Templars, and he can handle himself.”

“You have a point,” Garrett said, letting his hand fall back to his side. “He really wouldn’t like that, though.”

“He’d deal with it. It could be that chance to prove himself on his own. That’s what he’s been waiting for, isn’t it? Getting out of our shadows?”

Garrett hummed thoughtfully. An idea popped into Marian’s mind. She’d never been much for planning ahead, but this was too good to pass up.

“How about we make a deal,” Marian continued. “I’ll stop fighting you on this expedition, and you back me up when I tell Carver that he can’t come.”

“Fair enough. You’ll get the maps from the… Anders, then?”

“Yes. I’ve been meaning to visit him, anyway.”

“Deal,” Garrett offered his hand to shake, and Marian took it. “Varric said we could take two or three other people with us if we wanted. I was thinking of inviting Isabela and that glowy elf. Fenris. Both are good fighters with enough self-interest to stay alive and keep the people around them alive.”

“That’s stretching it a little, I’d say,” Marian chuckled.

“I’d take Aveline, but she’s actually got a job.”

  


Darktown existed in a constant state of busy-not-busy. The inhabitants crept around in the shadows, pretending they didn’t exist as they went about their business as usual. If she narrowed her focus and didn’t look into the gutters and the crevices between buildings, Marian could almost pretend that she was alone as she walked through the streets. 

A small gathering of children played quietly in the dirt outside Anders’s clinic. They looked up briefly at Marian’s approach, but apparently didn’t consider her a threat. The lantern wasn’t lit.

Marian knocked on the door. She’d meant to come a few days earlier, but life had gotten in the way. She and Garrett had been working nonstop to stockpile some coin to leave with Mother, and the Templars had them on the run more often than not.

Nane opened the door, and sighed when she recognized Marian. “The lantern isn’t lit. That means Anders isn’t available.”

“I just want to talk to him. Please.”

“I’ll ask him.”

The door clicked shut. 

“Are you Anders’s friend?” A little girl asked, tugging on Marian’s hand.

“I don’t know him very well, but I guess so.”

“He isn’t happy. He won’t say why, though,” she said. “Do you know why?”

An older girl came up behind the younger one and tugged on her shirt. “Vae, you’re not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“I won’t bite,” Marian said.

The door opened and Nane stood aside. “You had better not. Anders says he’ll talk to you.”

Marian flipped the older child the handful of silvers she’d snitched from her stash to buy food. “Get yourselves something nice.”

Nane narrowed her eyes at the gesture, closing the door behind Marian. “If you’re just coming down here to show everyone how charitable you are, you can walk your ass out of here right now.”

“Believe me when I tell you I just lost my chance at eating two full meals for the next couple of days,” Marian replied cheerily. 

Anders was kneeling in the dust beside a cot occupied by a little boy with light brown hair. The child looked up at Marian’s approach, leaning closer to Anders. One of his legs was crippled, twisted and small. His fingers clenched the thin sheet as if it were a lifeline.

“Hawke, right?” Anders asked quietly, ruffling the boy’s hair and standing.

“Just Marian, please,” Marian said, following him to the set of cupboards pressed against the wall. “I… I wanted to know how you’re doing. Is there anything I can...”

This was much easier when they were friends.

Anders didn’t say anything. He opened the cupboard and shuffled a few jars around. He closed it and leaned back against the wall, letting out a breath.

“I’m sorry, I--”

“No, it’s me,” Anders said quickly, cutting off Marian’s apology. “That wasn’t what I expected you to ask.” Of course. He’d expect her to ask about Justice. Justice’s magic was a whole different animal from Anders’s, for all that Anders claimed the two of them were one and the same.

“Well, I would still like the Deep Roads maps, if that’s a more comfortable subject,” Marian cringed. This wasn’t really going as smoothly as she’d imagined.

“That’s… also not what I expected you to ask.”

“Um, who cut your hair and what did you do to anger them?”

Anders laughed.

That was more like it.

“I have no idea what you want me to ask,” Marian lied.

“I want to be honest with you,” Anders said, dragging his hand across his face. “And I think you’re smart enough to know what I’m talking about.”

“ If you’re talking about the… different magic you used, I really don’t care,” Marian shrugged, unsure what the best answer would be. She’d straight up confronted him about it last time, and he’d been forthcoming enough. Justice was never a threat. At least, to people who  _ didn’t _ hurt mages. “It wasn’t blood magic and I’m pretty sure you’re not an abomination. I’ve been told they’re ugly.”

Anders smiled a little, a tinge of melancholy creeping into his expression. After a slight hesitation, he jumped into his explanation of his bond with Justice. Marian listened quietly, then asked a few strategic questions so she wouldn’t have to explain away having a little too much knowledge on the subject later. Anders became more and more visibly bewildered as Marian accepted his answers. 

“You don’t seem bothered,” he said, tone twisting the statement up into a question.

“I think that anyone who runs a free medical clinic, especially in a place like Darktown, deserves the benefit of the doubt,” Marian replied.

“I can see that,” Anders agreed. “Did you still want those Deep Roads maps?”

“Of course.”

Anders took a deep breath as he wound his fingers around themselves. “I also wanted to offer you my services, if you have need of them. My- I have no love for the Deep Roads, but I have rather extensive experience with them.”

“It’s the Templars, isn’t it?” Marian said, watching with mild curiosity as Nane’s head shot up at the word.

“Yes,” Anders cleared his throat. “I’m not sure if they don’t know it was me or aren’t willing to provoke a riot, but they’ve been sniffing around a little more often. It would be… prudent to get out of Kirkwall for a while.”

“That’s why Garrett and I decided to go in the first place. We aren’t exactly subtle, and we don’t have the coin to keep the Templars at bay.”

Anders laughed. “I can see that. The two of you are hard to miss.”

Nane wandered over to stand beside Anders. “What’s this about Templars?”

“They’re worse than shit,” Marian said cheerily.

“Kirkwall’s getting more dangerous for us mages,” Anders explained. “You know that.”

“And so you’re just going to leave?” Nane’s voice dropped dangerously. “You’re needed here.”

“He’ll also die here if he stays,” Marian said. “You’re welcome to come with us, Anders. Maker knows we need another healer. Garrett’s healing magic is just about as comfortable as getting a bone set.”

“ What about the people  _ here _ , Anders? There’s no shortage of people who need healing. People who aren’t putting their lives at risk for some treasure hunt,” Nane placed her hand possessively on Anders’s arm. 

Anders looked down, then glanced over at the cot where the crippled little boy lay. “I...”

“We’ve been sending the Templars on rabbit trails for months,” Nane snapped. “Do you think we’ll suddenly stop now that there’s more of them? You have the whole of Darktown watching out for you.”

“It only takes one person to accept a bribe to turn over a mage,” Marian said. It had happened to her and Garrett more than once. It usually resulted in a lot of moving fast, trying to set a trap before the informants could get to the Gallows or a Templar patrol. “It isn’t like I’m stealing Anders from you. He’s the one who brought it up.”

“You hate the Deep Roads. You take every opportunity to remind people of that,” Nane’s fingers tightened white around Ander’s arm.

Something clicked in Marian’s head. “Nane, is that your son?” She gestured to the crippled boy.

“ I’m not asking him to stay for myself, you lowlife thug,” Nane let go of Anders and stepped closer to Marian. Marian met her glare with a calm expression. “He’s  _ needed _ here.”

“Nane, please,” Anders reached out and brushed her shoulder. “I wouldn’t be gone forever. I would come back.”

“ How can you know that?” Nane whirled, voice dangerously close to breaking. “ _ How can you know that? _ ”

“I can’t,” Anders said. “But I do know that if I stay here, the Templars will find me eventually. If I leave for a little, they can search all they like and they won’t find anything. It’ll throw them off for longer when I come back.”

“Believe me, I don’t want to camp with Darkspawn for weeks on end either,” Marian added. “But Kirkwall is a deathtrap for mages. Money and redirection are the best ways to keep the Templars off, and the expedition should provide both.”

Nane stared at Anders for a long moment. “I don’t own you. But I don’t advise you to walk into the Deep Roads to avoid something that might never happen.” She turned, head held high, and walked to the crippled boy’s cot, kneeling beside it and brushing her hand through the boy’s hair.

“It won’t be easy to leave,” Anders murmured.

“It won’t be easy to stay, either,” Marian replied, a little more shortly than she’d intended. She sighed. “It’s up to you. I’ll come by in a day or two to see what you’ve decided.”

Anders knelt by the cabinet and slid open a drawer. He took out a small sack of dried herbs, uncovering a roll of old papers tied with a thin string. He picked it up and handed it to Marian. “Either way, these are yours.”

Marian folded over a corner of the top page. The Deep Roads maps.  _ How hard would it be to forge these? _ It would be easier to just write off areas of the map than to come up with some explanation to keep the lyrium idol out of Bartrand’s hands. The maps were old, but not ancient. It was an idea worth exploring. She’d just have to hold on to the maps for a little longer than Garrett would probably like.

“Thank you, Anders,” Marian said.  


 

“Bartrand set a date for the expedition,” Garrett said, taking a bite of the watery soup Marian had tossed together for dinner. He had been furious when Marian told him that she’d lost her few silvers, but they had enough food for Marian to make something edible. She had been officially relegated to preparer-of-meals for the remainder of their time in Kirkwall before the expedition as punishment. Marian rather thought it was more punishment for everyone else. They were the ones who would have to suffer through eating whatever she made.

“And here I thought this was all hearsay,” Gamlen shoved his chair back from the table and stepped over Garrett’s outstretched legs. Garrett’s foot twitched, and Marian elbowed him from her place beside him on the floor.

“I wasn’t going to do it,” Garrett muttered.

“I’m sure.” Marian replied.

“So how long do we have to finish getting ready to leave?” Carver asked.

Leandra looked up from the letter she was writing and looked pointedly at Garrett. “I do think you should reconsider this. If you two would just keep yourselves out of trouble, we wouldn’t have to worry about the Templars.”

“We’re leaving in a week.”

Marian froze with her spoon halfway to her mouth, stunned into silence. 

“That’s a little sudden. I don’t think I’ll be able to finish that side job for Athenril,” Carver quirked his mouth into a little grimace.

“Bartrand’s been touchy about sharing information with us. Had to get it from Varric,” Garrett said through a mouthful of food. “He thought we already knew.”

Marian put down her bowl and took a deep breath. Garrett gave her a sidelong look. “Carver, we have to talk.”

“What?”

“I wanted to ask you...” This was going to go great. “I wanted to ask if you’re willing to stay here with Mother.”

Carver’s mouth dropped open. For a brief moment, emotions warred across his face. Then he visibly selected fury, and stood. “After everything I’ve done for this expedition, everything I’ve done for  _ you _ , you want to foist me off on Gamlen and Mother? While you go off on your adventure and come back heroes?”

Marian realized that she probably should have set up the whole thing to make it look like he’d come to the decision on his own.

“To be fair, you’re the only one of us we can leave behind. Marian and I are virtually useless here with being mages and all,” The logic behind Garrett’s words was effectively neutralized by his condescending tone. Marian held back the sudden urge to punch him.

“No, don’t make this sound good for me. This isn’t what I want, and you can’t change that. I’m going on the expedition,” Carver clenched his fists.

“ Do you actually think that Gamlen’s going to look out for Mother?” Garrett asked, raising his voice. Marian did punch him in the shoulder this time. Garrett ignored her. Gamlen was still in the house, and they didn’t need another factor in this argument. “What happens if everything we’ve left goes to  _ someone’s _ gambling habit?”

“Carver, we’re not asking because we think you’re not good enough to go into the Deep Roads. We’re asking because we trust you to make sure there’s still people and a home to come back to,” Marian said.

Carver’s face was red with anger as he turned away. “Never good enough for you, am I?” He snatched his greatsword off of the table beside the door and stormed out without another word.

“ I think that went  _ wonderfully, _ don’t you?” Garrett asked.

“You know, Carver and Bethany had a connection,” Marian replied conversationally. “They practically knew what the other was thinking all of the time. You and I? I think the part of you that makes you capable of any sort of communication withered and died a long time ago.”

“No, I think it just migrated over to you in exchange for your wit and charm.”

“You’re a riot, Garrett.”

“Don’t I know it,” Garrett took Marian’s empty bowl from the floor and stacked it on top of his. “Did you get the Deep Roads maps?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to hang onto them for a little while. Wouldn’t want to give them to Bartrand only for him to take off without us,” Marian said as casually as she could. She crossed and uncrossed her arms, then stood up. “You know.”

“Good idea,” Garrett picked up Gamlen’s and Carver’s bowls from the table and tossed the pile in the bucket of water in the corner of the room. He picked up a rag and started scrubbing at the dishes. “Carver will come around. He doesn’t have enough of a spine to really say no.”

“He probably won’t talk to us ever again if we leave him,” Marian muttered. A pang of guilt settled in her stomach. It was for Carver’s own good. If he went, he would be forced into the Wardens, anyway. Marian couldn’t guarantee that she could protect him even though she knew what was going to happen. Garrett was easier for her to risk. Marian shuffled her toes in the dirt, glancing over at her alleged twin.

“Mother’s out with those two women she spends all day in the marketplace with, if you were wondering,” Garrett said. “Considering how late it is, I would expect them to be staying the night at whichever of their houses they were doing their lady things at.”

It was probably an hour or two until dark, judging from the way the light slanted through the rickety walls. The thought of Leandra walking home through Lowtown at night sent something cold knifing through Marian’s gut.

“I’m going out,” Marian said, picking up her boots and slipping them on. Her fingers felt thick and slow. The memory of Quentin’s wild eyes and her mother’s last, staggering steps sent her lunging for Garrett’s glaive.

“Something wrong?”

“Remembered something important I have to do,” Marian stumbled over the words a little, jerking the door open. Garrett said something else, but she missed the meaning as she slammed the door behind her. 

The Foundry District was on the opposite side of Lowtown. It wasn’t until Marian was just entering the area that she slowed from a dead run to a walk. The edges of her vision went a little dark. What was she thinking? Quentin hadn’t been impossible to kill the last time, but she had Isabela, Anders, and Varric at her back. 

The sunset cast red light against the walls of the foundry buildings, pooling in fiery stripes across the ground. A trio of workers crossed to the opposite side of the street, muttering quietly to each other and eyeing the glaive clenched in Marian’s hand. 

The scent of metal laced the sea air, and all Marian could think was  _ blood. _

She found herself standing in front of the foundry where her mother died, frozen in front of the door. It was hardly distinctive from the buildings around it, but every detail was carefully fixed in a horrifying portrait in Marian’s memory. It was missing a few scars it’s facade it would pick up in the next few years, but it was the same building.

There had been a templar, Emeric. He’d been investigating the disappearances that had led up to Leandra’s death. Marian could tip him off. He had the might of the Templar order at his back, and they’d love to sink their teeth into a crazed blood mage.

Then again, hadn’t he been told to drop the investigation by Knight-Commander Meredith? Why would she make him stop when they’d proved his suspicions by finding the remains of that minor noble’s wife?

Marian whirled on her heel, pacing back and forth in front of the building. She had spent years avoiding thinking about what had happened. What she could have done differently, what she could have done better. 

She could walk in there now and risk her life. She could report Quentin’s cave of abominations to the Templars and risk her mother’s. She could wait and bring backup, and risk Quentin getting away until it was too late.

“You need something?” A gruff voice asked. 

Marian jerked away, bringing up Garrett’s glaive. 

“Woah, I didn’t mean nothing!” The worker raised his gloved hands and backed up a few steps. “Jus’ wanted to see if you needed help. It’s getting close to dark-- not safe around here then.”

“Who owns this building?” Marian asked, swinging the glaive to point at the foundry.

“I dunno,” the worker eased his hands down slowly. “Doesn’t belong to any of the big companies ‘round here. I’m guessing whoever owns ain’t usin’ it for no metalworking.”

“Have you seen anything suspicious? Heard anything?”

“What? Are you some… What’s going on with that place?”

“I’ll tell you what,” Marian glanced around. There wasn’t anyone else on the street. The sunset had faded the light to a dying violet, the shadows darkening. “You talk to the next Templar patrol you see. Tell them that you heard something in there. Screaming, or the like. Mention something about blood magic.”

“I’m not sure that’s--”

“I’ll make it worth your while. You do that tonight, and go to the Hanged Man tomorrow. I’ll leave a little something with the bartender for you.”

“How do I know you’ll--”

“Do we have a deal?”

The man wavered for a breath of a second, then stuck his hand out. “You’ll get your Templars.”

“You’ll get your money,” Marian took his hand and shook it, shoving back the apprehension that coiled inside her, constricting around her lungs. “Forget you saw me.”

“Already did,” the man said, turning to walk down the street.

That was something, at least.

Without a backward glance at the foundry, Marian went home.

  



	6. Chapter 6

The week between that night and the day of the expedition flew by like a bird of prey chasing a mouse. Carver had grudgingly accepted his fate, and proceeded to pretend Marian and Garrett didn’t exist. Leandra had only noticed after a few days, and the realization that Carver was staying was such a visible relief to her that Carver had loosened up a little. Marian had kept tabs on the foundry, and was grimly satisfied when Aveline bemusedly declared that the area had been closed off to the general public by the Templars. Garrett hadn’t let her hold on to any of their coin after he realized more had gone missing thanks to her. Marian had refused to explain, and Garrett just threw up his hands in frustration.

Carver and Garrett ignoring her gave Marian the time to work on the maps. She’d almost gone to Isabela, but then she realized that Isabela would probably think that she was trying to hide something for money. Instead, she’d pulled in all the contacts she’d made during the year with Athenril, and managed to put together a map that looked almost identical to the first-- minus a few key passages that led into the side temple with the lyrium idol.

It had been quite the learning experience. She couldn’t hand the maps to anyone else-- she didn’t want the location getting out, so she had to learn from about five different sources the best way to forge papers. She handed them over to Varric at his insistence, Bartrand had arranged everything but the entrance location by then.

She hoped nobody would notice the forgery.

She hoped Anders wouldn’t notice.

“Bartrand’s arranged enough supplies for us to bring two people plus Anders,” Garrett told Marian as he checked the straps on his pack for the fifth time since they’d said their goodbyes and departed from Gamlen’s house. “I think he’s decided that Anders was his idea, so we’re not actually responsible for him.”

“Fenris and Isabela are supposed to meet us there, right?” Marian asked, swatting Garrett’s hands away from her own pack. “They’ll be glad to know they don’t have to fight over it.”

“I’m not sure Fenris would really care.”

Marian chuckled. “He’s just pretending not to care. He told me that the sitting and waiting for that bastard magister is all fine and good, but he wants something useful to do.” 

They met up with the rest of the party at the edge of Kirkwall. Most of Bartrand’s expedition was made up of dwarves, but there were two humans and an elf, as well. All in all, there were about twenty people going into the Deep Roads.

There would be far fewer when they returned, if everything went the same. Hopefully it wouldn’t.

Anders and Varric were already there. The mage was staying close to the dwarf’s side, making uneasy quips about finally leaving the city behind only to walk into something far worse. Anders’s face brightened when he saw Marian and Garrett.

“You’re here!” He exclaimed, trotting up to Marian. “That Bartrand hasn’t stopped asking me questions all morning. I’ve been hiding behind Varric; it’s the only way to get him to leave. For some reason, he thinks I know everything about the Deep Roads here around Kirkwall.”

“What, Grey Wardens don’t know everything?” Garrett feigned shock. “We should call off the expedition since we can’t account for every rock between here and wealth.”

Isabela came around the corner, laughing at something and leaning towards Fenris. The elf was leaning away at a much more extreme angle.

“I was hoping you two wouldn’t show up,” Isabela said, clapping Marian on the shoulder. “Then I could take the lion’s share of whatever we find down there.”

“Have you determined the number of people you’re allowed? I had better not have walked all the way here for nothing,” Fenris said, crossing his arms and standing away from the group.

“Both you and Isabela can come,” Varric answered, joining the circle. “Bartrand’s seen sense-- we need more armed men than half-trained excavation specialists. Getting his hands on all that partnership money didn’t hurt, either.”

“It certainly hurt me,” Garrett said.

Bartrand called for everyones’ attention in the background.

“Do we need to pay attention to him?” Isabela asked. “Because that might be a little ways out of what I’m willing to do for money.”

“No, but it’d make him feel good,” Varric turned towards his brother. “Might be entertaining, too. He’s been preparing this speech for weeks.”

“We’ve chosen one of the hidden entrances. The Deep Roads will be nice and virginal there, ready for a good deflowering,” Bartrand paced back and forth at the head of the gathering, voice loud enough to carry to the back of the party. 

“You’ve got to be joking,” Garrett muttered under his breath.

“Does make for an interesting image,” Varric replied.

“It’ll take us a week to get to the depth we need, and there are bound to be leftover Darkspawn from the Blight. Big risks, big rewards,” Bartrand clapped his hands together. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get a move on!”

The three bronto-pulled carts jumped forwards as the cart drivers slapped the reins across the brontos’ backs. The rest of the expedition, all on foot, fell into step around and behind them.

“So Anders,” Garrett started. His casual, conversational tone immediately had Marian raising an eyebrow in suspicion. “Can you eat Darkspawn if you cook them long enough? How do you Wardens eat on your little treks into the pits?”

“ Eugh,  _ no, _ ”  Anders’s nose twisted up in disgust. “They’re practically rotting alive. Even if I  _ could  _ eat them, I’d rather die of starvation.”

“We’ve got enough food to last us if we’re careful,” Varric said. “No need to worry about that.”

“Deepstalkers are edible in a pinch,” Anders continued. “Warden-Commander Surana claimed she’d eaten the cave spiders before. The non-poisonous ones, of course.”

“We’ve always got the brontos and each other to tap into before that,” Isabela suggested.

“I can clearly see that this expedition was an excellent idea,” Fenris growled.

“Warden-Commander Surana?” Marian asked. As far as she knew, the Hero of Ferelden, Aedan Cousland, was supposed to be Warden-Commander for another year or two.

“ Yes. You know, the Hero of Ferelden. Slayer of the Archdemon, Queller of the Fifth Blight,” Anders gave an exaggerated shudder. “I served under her while I was a Warden. Nice enough woman, but  _ terrifying _ when she wants to be. I wouldn’t doubt her about the cave spiders.”

Marian glanced around, but nobody seemed ready to contradict Anders. 

“I’m sure you have some interesting stories about that,” Garrett said. “Mind sharing? Something to set an adventurous mood for our quest.”

Anders laughed. “If I tell you anything about my time in Amaranthine, you’ll probably turn around and run screaming for Kirkwall.”

“Try me,” Garrett challenged. 

Marian knew most of Anders’s stories, but she listened to him just as attentively as everyone else. As they walked, several of Bartrand’s dwarves wandered over to join in. Every time Anders finished detailing one adventure, the others would needle him until he started another.

The tales sounded about the same as Marian remembered, but with one key difference. Warden-Commander Surana. Apparently she was a mage who had been recruited to the Grey Wardens after helping a blood mage escape from Kinloch Hold. She’d been a longtime acquaintance of Anders’s, but they hadn’t been very close until they met up by chance in Amaranthine.

Marian could vaguely remember Surana being among the names Anders had mentioned when he talked about the mages he knew in Ferelden, but she hadn’t been a Warden. She’d been killed in the blood mage revolt during the Blight, Anders had told her.

The name Cousland didn’t come up in a single one of Anders’s stories.

_ They don’t know each other well enough to have come up with a prank like this. Anders doesn’t really do pranks, anyway, _ Marian thought. With a jolt, she remembered the extra street in Lowtown. She’d been sure she had the entire city of Kirkwall memorized, but that street hadn’t been in her mental map. She never had a twin.

For a dizzying second, Marian wondered if her life here was even real. Was this some sort of extended Fade dream meant to keep her as a safe for Flemeth’s amulet? A cold sort of numbness settled around Marian, and she buried the thought deep in the back of her mind.

No. The Fade never stayed this steady. 

Either way, Marian was an absolute champion at denial.

“Did you manage to get our staves into the carts, Varric?” Garrett asked abruptly, startling Marian out of her reverie. Fenris muttered something under his breath and picked up his pace to walk well ahead of them, beside one of the carts.

“I did,” the dwarf replied proudly. “And I got confirmation that nobody minds if you’re mages. Just so long as you pull your weight and don’t cause trouble, you could be a genlock, for all they care.”

“I think we’re a marked step up from Darkspawn,” Garrett chuckled.

“Much more attractive, if nothing else,” Anders agreed, then snapped his mouth shut.

Garrett waggled his eyebrows. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Having an actual magically augmented stave would be a tremendous relief after going weeks and countless fights without one. Marian hadn’t used one since coming back down from Sundermount. Garrett’s glaive was acceptable, but it wasn’t a mage’s staff.

They weren’t nearly far away from Kirkwall enough to safely carry their staves, but they soon would be.

  


The first day of travel had taken them well out of range of the city, but the Deep Roads entrance they camped beside was far too close to civilization for anyone’s comfort. Bartrand’s elf and one of the humans had taken to rousing the party with the thought that if an entrance to the Deep Roads could exist so close to Kirkwall without the city seeing even one Darkspawn, they wouldn’t encounter many on their way down.

Marian knew better, but she wasn’t about to be the downer for no reason. Everyone was well aware of the risks without any doomsayers. 

The night was spent quietly, with Marian, Garrett, and Fenris swapping watch throughout the night. Bartrand had made that one of their official duties after Garrett had jokingly bragged that whacking Darkspawn over the head wasn’t going to be enough of a challenge for them. Isabela had managed to beg out, saying that she was a light sleeper and she’d be roused long before anyone keeping watch heard anything.

Garrett and Marian had a quiet chuckle about that later when one of the brontos had stepped on a twig and startled itself so badly that it roared. Isabela was one of the few people who hadn’t woken during the ensuing commotion.

When confronted the next morning, she claimed that she’d ignored everyone because she didn’t want to get out of bed. Marian told her that her ignoring sounded a lot like snoring. The look she’d gotten return was priceless.

They didn’t encounter any Darkspawn on the first two days inside the Deep Roads. The third, however, was a different matter entirely.

Anders had been twitchy all morning, but he hadn’t done anything beyond give an extra warning to stay alert until after their evening meal.

“There are Darkspawn nearby. They’re coming this way,” Anders said, catching up his staff from the back of one of the carts and jogging ahead to Bartrand’s side. Marian glanced at Garrett as the mage conferred with the dwarf for a moment.

“Alright everyone!” Bartrand called, breaking away from Anders and waving his hands. “Keep your guard up. Hawke and Hawke, take some of yours and go ahead.”

“You aren’t going to stop the party?” Anders asked, tone harsh. He whirled his staff and tucked it up behind his arm, fingers clenching the haft. “We’ll take care of the Darkspawn, but it would be easier if we knew you weren’t ten steps behind us.”

“We’re burning time, mage,” Bartrand growled. “This is what we brought you for, anyway. Killing the damned blighters.”

Anders let out a frustrated huff as Marian quickened her pace to overtake him. Isabela fell into step as well. 

“Garrett, you and Fenris can make sure no stragglers get by to the group,” Marian called over her shoulder. “Stay with the carts.”

“No dashing heroics without me,” Garrett shouted back.

“Dashing heroics,” Anders muttered, keeping to the center of the passageway. “Nope, no heroics here. And we’ll be a lot less dashing covered in blood.”

“I don’t know,” Isabella said, nudging Anders’s arm. Anders shied violently, drawing up his shoulders. “A little blood can be sexy.”

“ Maybe if you’re  _ insane  _ enough to be into that sort of thing,” he snapped. “Don’t get any of  their blood on you. I can’t heal the Blight.”

“Well, if--”

“Isabela, knock it off,” Marian cut in. “Anders, how many are there?”

“Not many. A small group. There might be an emissary with them, though,” he grimaced, adjusting his grip on his staff. “I’m a little rusty at this.”

The first few groups of Darkspawn Marian had encountered on her own Deep Roads trip were hardly a challenge-- the creatures were complacent, dull and unprepared. Marian wasn’t going to let that change her level of focus. 

She held her staff ready at her side. “Stay back if you can, Isabela. Use your throwing knives for as long as possible. Anders, you can work defense, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I’ll be the crowd control.” 

The familiar, comforting sweep of Anders’s barrier spell swept over Marian. Isabela shivered and gave him a narrow-eyed look. Anders ignored her and muttered a warning as they rounded the corner.

A small band of genlock were clustered in the center of the pathway, ambling forwards with steady intent. The moment they caught sight of the mages and Isabela, they charged, crude weapons raised. A single one coated in deepstalker hide stayed back, holding a long, carved bone aloft. An emissary.

Marian gathered lightning at her fingertips, marveling at how easy the magic flowed through her with her staff as a conduit. An arc of blue-white electricity crackled through the red-lit air, striking the emissary and branching back to hit the slowest of the charging group. 

Isabela’s knives took down the lead genlock, and a wide green glyph lit between them and the Darkspawn as Anders pulled on the Fade.

Marian nullified her earth spell at the last minute, remembering they were underground. She growled under her breath and sprang forward as Anders’s repulsion glyph spent itself flinging two of the genlocks back into their fellows behind them. She whirled her staff and sent the bladed in sweeping across one’s throat. The creature’s arm came up far too late to block, and it reeled away, choking on its own blood.

One of Isabela’s daggers flew past Marian to embed itself shallowly in the nose of another genlock. The creature squealed and flung the knife away, swinging its broken shortsword at Marian. She dodged back, blocking with her staff and channeling an intense bolt of electricity through the remaining Darkspawn.

A sputtering green ball of magic hissed by Marian, deflected inches away by Anders’s spell. With a swift movement, Marian dodged the next spell and cast blazing white energy across the fallen Darkspawn to hit the emissary in the chest. The monster roared, reeling backwards. Then it burst into flames.

Marian glanced over her shoulders and gave Anders a thankful nod. “Are there any more?”

“Not here. I can feel more vaguely off in the distance, but they’re too far away to be a threat for now,” Anders shuffled forwards, voice notably strangled. He poked one of the dead Darkspawn with his foot. “I expect Bartrand thinks we’re going to clear these off of the path.”

“There’s lava right there,” Marian said, bracing herself back to shove the emissary towards the lava. She planted a boot along the side of its chest and pushed it along the ground for a half step. “Ugh.”

She pulled on the Fade, feeling the rock beneath her shift to her command. The ground beneath the emissary rolled, conveying the body the remainder of the distance to the lava. The molten rock hissed as the corpse sank.

“Handy trick,” Isabela observed.

“Too much effort to do for all of them,” Marian growled, kicking the next Darkspawn spitefully.

Bartrand’s party came around the corner as they finished clearing the path. Garrett led, and Marian could see Fenris’s mop of silver hair at the back of the caravan.

“You couldn’t be bothered to lay out a carpet for us?” Garrett asked teasingly. “My, what laziness.”

“Feel free to do it yourself next time,” Anders said, stalking over to Varric and settling into step beside the dwarf.

“I’m not looking forward to cleaning these,” Isabela held up the cloth-wrapped bundle of daggers Anders had collected from the corpses. Garrett stepped delicately away from the proffered items. “We should have our resident Blight immune Warden do the cleaning.”

“I’m sure he’d take you up on that if you asked nicely and offered to do the rest all of his other work,” Marian said. “Better learn healing magic quick.”

The day went uneventfully until Bartrand sent Ledel and Pam, the elf and one of the dwarves, to scout ahead. The two of them returned hours later, panting and exhausted. Ledel looked like he had been sliding across gravel on his hands and knees, and Pam supported most of his weight until Anders and Garrett helped the elf into the back of one of the carts.

“Well? What did you find?” Bartrand asked, glaring Pam down. The tattooed dwarf looked at the ground, cringing. 

“Nothing. The path ahead is blocked and the side passages are too dangerous,” he flinched at Bartrand’s snarl. “We hardly made it out alive.”

“I don’t see you bleeding anywhere,” Bartrand snapped, and struck the dwarf across the face. Pam staggered backwards, clutching his nose. Blood dripped between his fingers as Bartrand stormed past him. “That’s more like it. What do I even pay you for?”

Marian raised an eyebrow at Varric. “Charming guy, your brother.”

Varric just shook his head.

They continued forwards into a wide cavern. Marian sighed deeply, feeling a weariness born of apprehension settle into her bones. There were no easy days left in the near future, if her own past was anything to go by. 

“Set up camp here,” Bartrand shouted, waving the bronto carts forwards into the cavern. Half of the cavern was buried under huge boulders, like the scouts had said. A single trail opening branched off of the side of the cavern. It looked like it had been chewed out of the wall.

The party settled in for the night, laying out blankets and chewing on dried meat as they muttered about the expedition being a dud. Bartrand and Varric stood off to the side, out of earshot. By the gesturing, Marian could guess they were arguing.

“ We’re going to have to clear that side passage, aren’t we?” Garrett asked, collapsing face down on his bedroll. “And  _ if _ we come back alive, that sorry brother of Varric’s is going to bitch at us for taking too long.”

“I can’t believe they’re related,” Isabela said, sipping out of a canteen. “It’s like everything useful jumped right over the first one and went straight to Varric.”

“That happened to me, too. Got everything Marian didn’t bother picking up in her rush to get out,” Garrett added, voice muffled by the blankets. Marian kicked him in the ribs. “See what I mean?”

Varric wandered over, a scowl set deeply into his face. “I talked Bartrand into letting us clear the side passage--”

Garrett made a victorious noise, raising his hand briefly and letting it thump back to the ground. Isabela chuckled.

“\--after we get some sleep. He’s not too happy about it, though. We aren’t going to be able to fit the carts through that side passage,” Varric tossed his bed roll on the far side of Garrett. “We’ll try to find a point that hooks up with the main path.”

  



	7. Chapter 7

Marian woke to raised voices. Within a second, she was on her feet, staff held ready and lightning magic flickering at her fingertips. Her heart beat wildly as she whirled to find the source of the shouting.  _ Darkspawn? Anders and Pam were on guard. They should- _

Bartrand. The dwarf kicked Garrett in the ribs. “We’re waiting on  _ you _ , useless human. What’re you still asleep for?”

Garrett rolled over and grumbled something unintelligible. 

“Hey!” Marian lowered her staff and killed the spell, stalking over to the dwarf. She towered over him, pulling her shoulders up and using her full height to her advantage. “You could just sing if you wanted to get us up in the most miserable way possible.”

Bartrand opened his mouth to retort, but Marian just turned away and ignored him. Marian remembered that Bartrand took any and every opportunity to be a jerk, but she also remembered him to be more of a businessman than this. 

It was easier to prevent mutiny when people tolerated you.

Marian toed Garrett’s hip. “Wake up.”

“No,” Garrett said distinctly. Then he muttered something else and made a noise that sounded like a badly faked snore. 

Marian had forgotten what it was like to constantly deal with a sibling.

She hadn’t, however, forgotten the best way to handle siblings.

Ice magic never came naturally to Marian. She could never handle it well enough to use in battle, but she could use it for small things, like freezing food. Or brothers.

With every bit of focus she could muster, Marian called forth a thread of ice, casting it in a smooth motion. She could feel the moisture pulling out of the air, condensing against Garrett’s shirt and freezing it solid in an instant.

“ Mar _ ian! _ ”  Garrett yelped, rolling to his feet and struggling out of his shirt. He threw it against the ground and shook out his hands, shuddering. He shot Marian an annoyed glare and lit fire on his fingertips.

Marian realized what he was doing about one charred piece of fabric too late for the shirt.

Garrett’s eyes went comically wide as the garment went up in flames, and he shifted to casting ice almost immediately. The pile of ashes frosted over, a small, sad puff of smoke trailing off of the side.

“ I’ll admit I didn’t quite think that through,” Garrett crossed his arms over his bare chest and forlornly watched the frost creep over the remains of the shirt.

Isabela chuckled from the opposite row of bedrolls. “This treasure hunt will be well worth it for the entertainment factor, if nothing else.”

Marian bowed, sweeping her staff back in an elegant twirl. Garrett shoved her shoulder, knocking her off balance. Marian staggered dramatically, only righting herself when she came dangerously close to Fenris. She returned the elf’s venomous glare with a smile and went to collect up her bedroll.

Marian learned, as she picked around the camp collecting what they’d need for the side tunnel exploration, that her and Garrett’s performance had singlehandedly brought the entire party’s morale back up to enthusiastic. Varric had joked about writing a novel series based on their adventures, and Garrett had spent the rest of the morning trailing along behind the dwarf, suggesting more and more ludicrous titles for said book.

When they were finally ready to go, Marian realized that she hadn’t seen Anders all morning. She left Garrett and Isabela bickering with Varric about the definition of “proper” book titles, and wandered around the edges of the camp looking for Anders.

He stood well away from the camp, arms crossed and head bowed. Marian circled wide around him.

“Anders?”

The mage started violently.

“Marian! I--” Anders took a few steps back. “I’m sorry, you startled me.”

“We’re going to clear the side passage now,” Marian tilted her head, trying to catch Anders’s eyes. “Are you going to come, or would you rather stay with the caravan?”

“I’m coming,” Anders half turned, glancing over his shoulder towards where the others were waiting across the cavern. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I know you hate the Deep Roads, Anders,” Marian stepped around to stand in front of him again. Anders still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “If you don’t want to go ahead with us, you can wait until we’ve cleared the path.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Anders said shortly. “I can feel the darkspawn from here as well as when I’m right in front of them.” He paced a tight circle, hands clenching and unclenching. 

“It’s your choice.”

“I’ll go. It’s best to have an early warning,” hissing out a long breath, Anders tucked his staff up underneath his arm and started across the cavern. 

Marian trailed behind him, watching as his shoulders drew in as they approached the others. She felt a stab of regret for bringing him, but the thought of what might have happened to Anders if she’d left him in Kirkwall dulled the ache. His clinic was too well known to last against the Templars now. When they got back, when they had money and the city’s eyes were focused on the Qunari, he would be safe. Safer, at least.

There had been close calls over the years, far too many for comfort. Marian didn’t intend on letting any of those incidents happen again.

“You can’t call it murder if they’re Darkspawn,” Varric told Garrett, voice laced with exasperation. “That makes you sound more like a villain than a hero.”

“‘Garrett and Marian’s Merry Roadtrip of Murder’ is an excellent title,” Garrett replied. His eyebrows drew down in an expression of hurt and he turned to Marian and Anders. “Don’t you agree?”

“Wholeheartedly,” Marian confirmed.

“What are we talking about?” Anders asked.

“The Hawke family biography that Varric’s going to write,” Isabela said, falling into step with the others as Garrett started off down the side tunnel. “A little preemptively, I’d say.”

“I’ve been sufficiently magnificent enough to deserve a book all my life,” Garrett called back. “Varric’s just the first one to realize it.”

“I might question his taste,” Anders smiled tentatively, stumbling over the joke like he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. He ducked his head and glanced forward at Varric, who just chuckled.

“We’re going to get rich if this thing pans out, Blondie,” Varric said. “Everyone’ll want to know how we did it. It’ll sell a lot of books.”

A long trail of rickety stairs led down into a wide opening below. In all honesty, ‘stairs’ was an exaggeration. It looked more like a tree had exploded into planks that had then been stacked by a large number of drunk nugs. Two smaller caves branched off on either end of the cavern.

Garrett poked the first step with his boot and grimaced. He glanced back over his shoulder, opening his mouth to say something.

“I’ll go first,” Isabela cut him off, making her way down the stacks of wood as if they were an actual staircase. “Less likely that it’ll fall before the rest of you go stomping over it.”

Garrett followed quickly after, tripping halfway down and struggling to right himself as he stumbled down the rest of the stairs. He caught himself at the last step and brushed off his hands. “That wasn’t--” The rotted plank beneath his foot cracked and slipped off to the side. Garrett followed ungracefully.

“Sufficiently magnificent, dear brother,” Marian offered a hand to Garrett, who lay flat on his back, swearing at the rocky ceiling. 

Garrett rolled to his feet and brushed the debris off of his shoulders, retrieving his staff from where it had fallen. He stalked past Fenris, taking the left hand tunnel. 

The group lapsed into a comfortable silence after the snickers petered out. When Anders muttered a warning about Darkspawn, the silence became markedly less comfortable.

  


The side tunnel took a full day to clear. There weren’t nearly as many darkspawn as Marian remembered, but the quantity of oversized spiders made up for it. 

Marian stayed well to the back of the party as they tore through the nests of arachnids. She’d always disliked spiders, and the Nightmare really hadn’t helped that much.

The most difficult part of clearing the tunnel was stabilizing the dubious constructs that made up the bridges and stairways between the cavern and the opening back to the main road. There wasn’t really any way to make space for the bronto carts unless they were willing to spend excessive quantities of time or magic. 

Needless to say, Bartrand had quickly caught on to that fact when they returned a day later to declare the side path cleared. Last time, she and Varric had tag-teamed him to convince him that Marian couldn’t do it alone and incapacitating their healer wasn’t a good plan.

This time, with three mages, Bartrand wouldn’t be swayed.

“If you have us clear the entire pathway for the carts, we’re not going to be useful again for a couple days,” Marian explained, for what felt like the millionth time.

“As long as you can still drag your own asses down the tunnel I don’t care,” Bartrand snapped, turning away. “We need the carts to carry our haul.”

The Deep Roads had been hard enough last time without layering  _ tunnel reconstruction _ on top of fighting darkspawn. 

“You know, Hawke, it might not be such a bad idea,” Varric said as Bartrand stalked away. “It’d save us from splitting the caravan.”

“You too?” Marian asked acidly.

Varric raised his hands and backed off a step. “I’m just saying.”

Marian hissed under her breath and approached Garrett, who was already inspecting the tunnel opening, glancing between it and the bronto carts. She pulled up short with her face in his. “You aren’t considering this, are you?”

Garrett looked genuinely surprised. “What’s wrong with it? You’re good with earth magic and it’d shave a few days off of the schedule.”

“And if we run into something that we need all of our strength for?”

“Why are you saying ‘if’?”

The brazen, carefree tone of Garrett’s words tore Marian’s breath away. Faded-shattered memories, buried under the pain of Kirkwall and the windburned  _ fear _ that came after the Chantry explosion rose up behind Marian’s eyes.

There had been a day when those words could have easily been her own.

Now, faced with tunnels full of darkspawn and  _ red lyrium _ , full of awareness of the future, Marian couldn’t find the humor.

“This isn’t a game, Garrett,” Marian snarled.

Garrett backed off a step, his foot catching on the edge of a rock. “I’m well aware-”

“ No, you  _ aren’t! _ ”

Up until the moment she had fled Kirkwall, Marian relied on avoidance. If she didn’t think about something, didn’t deal with it, it would go away. That, or it would bring itself to a head and she could just deal with the finale. 

But here? Faced with a day or two of travel between them and the red lyrium that would work to tear Thedas apart? Marian needed everything she had.

Except understanding from the people she needed most.

“Marian,” Garrett placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “I think it would be good to rest a bit. You’re a little upset.”

A little didn’t cover it.

“We could turn the corner in a day and run straight into a nest of ogres,” Marian shot back, pulling away from his touch. “Incapacitating all of our mages is under no circumstances a good idea.”

“And it’ll take at least a week of work if we want to clear the tunnel by hand,” Garrett said. “There aren’t many darkspawn in this area, Anders said so. We’ll be fine.”

The last thing they were going to be was fine.

  


Marian’s patience chipped away with the stone in the side tunnel. Bartrand hadn’t backed down, and even with Anders standing on her side, Marian couldn’t sway Garrett or Varric either.

The rock backed down, though, and that was the only reason Marian hadn’t torn someone’s head off yet. Trying to conserve her strength was near impossible with the quantity of tunnel Bartrand had the mages carving through daily.

Mostly, she, Garrett, and Anders found and jostled pockets of loose earth or weak points in the walls to widen the tunnels. Theoretically, it wasn’t too much work.

In practice, however, magic was a tricky thing and tunnel walls even more so.

By the time the tunnels were stable and wide enough for the bronto carts, the three mages had been half buried by two tunnel collapses and were nearly dead on their feet.

Garrett had his face against the back of the second cart, leaning as much of his weight against it as he could without actually  _ being  _ in it. Every time it went over a bump, he muttered something obscene under his breath.

Marian walked beside Isabela, grateful for the Rivaini’s support when she stumbled. Anders lagged behind, and Fenris trailed even farther back. 

Marian had enough of Deep Roads, darkspawn, and anything related to them to last her  _ lifetimes. _

“Hey! Warden!” Bartrand pushed his way against the flow of the caravan. He had the Deep Roads maps clenched in one hand and the other raised to attract Anders’s attention.

“Yes?” Anders glanced up, expression hazy.

“Your blighted maps,” Bartrand waved the paper at about Anders’s elbow level. “What’re you Wardens doing down here, anyways?”

Marian dropped back to walk at Anders’s side.

Anders looked at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed as if he couldn’t see her particularly well. Then he looked back down to Bartrand and reached out for the maps.

The dwarf snatched them away. “You’ve got this marked up to lead us one way, but the Roads? Looks like the other way’s the better choice. You hidin’ something?”

“Not… Not that I know of,” Anders shook his head, grimacing as he swayed violently with the motion. “Wardens are usually more focused on Darkspawn nests than treasure hunts.”

“We should probably stay with the maps, shouldn’t we?” Marian asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the papers. She’d laid a few different false trails as per the suggestions of her contacts, but if Bartrand wasn’t fooled, this was going to be a lot harder than she’d thought.

“Not if they’re leading us to a horde of blighters, no,” Bartrand growled. “We’re going the other way. From the way the Roads are constructed here, I’d say we’re not far out from something big.”

That… wasn’t something Marian could argue with.

Marian sighed deeply. There were at least two other opportunities to route the caravans away from the Thaig and the red lyrium. But if Bartrand was going by knowledge of the dwarven architecture? 

Any time they’d come across dwarven artifacts and ruins during their travels, Varric hadn’t given a shit about any of it. Marian had assumed Bartrand would be similar, more surface dwarf than otherwise.

Apparently not.

“You’ve been quiet and angry for a while,” Isabela’s voice came from beside Marian. 

Marian glanced over, startled. She hadn’t noticed as Anders had fallen behind again and Isabella had joined her. Marian tilted her head and made a loose gesture with her hand. “I’ve got a bad feeling about whatever we’re walking into.”

“I don’t think that sort of feeling is reserved for Wardens, down here,” Isabella agreed. “Is it a specific sort of bad feeling?”

“Very.”

Isabela cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s not important right now,” Marian answered the obvious question. Isabela wouldn’t want to use the red lyrium for profit. She had her standards, her lines, and she never crossed them. Marian hoped she could rely on her old friend when worst came to worst and the red lyrium became a problem.

Marian wasn’t so blind as to think that her forged Warden maps would work, not with the very Roads acting as maps themselves. Something cold lodged in Marian’s chest. It didn’t feel like the sort that would thaw away easy.

  


“Holy shit,” Varric said, suitably summing up the scene before them.

The first time Marian had seen it, the red lyrium twining in and around the stones of the thaig’s entrance hadn’t been much different from the lava-lit walls of the Deep Roads themselves. Just more red, more background noise and more eerie features of the darkspawn-infested underground.

“How did you know this was here?” Garrett asked in a low tone. His eyes were wide with wonder, a flicker of excitement building bright behind them. “It wasn’t on the maps.”

“Old scavenger tales,” Bartrand replied, moving towards the stairway with an entirely different sort of glint in his eyes. “A week below the surface, they said. Nobody believed them.”

_ But they’ll believe us, _ Marian realized bitterly.  _ When we come up with lifetimes worth of riches? Not even the thought of darkspawn will stop anyone. Just like last time. _

“I wouldn’t believe anyone who said anything good could come out of the Deep Roads, either,” Anders said. His words carried a tone of lightness, the exact sort Anders used when he was deeply uncomfortable. Marian couldn’t agree more.

The magical undercurrent of the red lyrium scraped against Marian’s senses like gravel over bare skin. She couldn’t remember it feeling like this in the Deep Roads. Between Meredith and the red templars, maybe she’d become a little more sensitive to it.

“Garrett,” Marian nudged her brother, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?” His eyes strayed to hers for a brief second as Bartrand started down the stairs, shouting for the others to set camp.

“Does this feel off to you?” 

“It feels like money,” Garrett replied, flashing a quick grin and turning back to trace the spiraling branches of lyrium with his gaze. “What do you think that is?”

“Nothing good,” Marian grasped Garrett’s arm. The bronto carts clattered slowly down the shallow stairway in the background. “Listen, I think something’s wrong. Stay alert.”

“Marian, we haven’t even seen darkspawn in nearly three days. I doubt there’s anything alive down here,” Garrett pulled away gently and clapped Marian on the shoulder. “It looks like there might be valuable old stuff down here. We just pick it up and go. Easy as pissing Carver off.” He chuckled at his own joke and started down the stairway after the rest of the party, leaving Marian standing alone.

There would be no hiding this. Even if Marian could somehow convince Bartrand not to sell the location, there were somewhere around twenty other people on the expedition she’d have to monitor. It was impossible.

Killing everyone was an idea, but that would actually require killing everyone. The black humor hit a little too close to home to be particularly funny. Threats could be made, but some people were willing to risk life and limb for riches.

The people on this expedition had already displayed a tendency towards that line of thought, considering the fact that they were even on the expedition in the first place.

Changing maps hadn’t worked, and though it  _ might _ work against people the maps were sold to, there was always the risk of someone clever like Bartrand seeing straight through them again.

Marian hissed under her breath, pacing back and forth atop the stairway. The members of the expedition milled around below, scurrying back and forth with packs and food, setting up camp. The red lyrium might have been the same color as the lighting from the lava had been through their travels, but it was ice cold. Everyone was breaking out layers of clothing that had been packed away while they walked beside molten rock.

Garrett and Isabela were off to the side, watching the action and gesturing wildly. Then Garrett whirled, dropping his staff on the ground and scrambling ungracefully up the rock face behind him to sit a solid ten feet up on a small outcropping. He yelled something down to Isabela, who responded with an epithet even Marian could hear over the distance.

The Rivaini climbed with all the grace Garrett had so sorely lacked, and ended up another ten feet above Garrett. Anders stalked over to the rock face and shouted something up at the two of them. Ignoring him, Garrett flashed a rude gesture up at Isabela. She shoved a pile of rocks and dust off of her perch and onto his head.

Garrett lost his balance and tumbled off the ledge, catching himself with a poorly made shield of magic. The spell dissipated barely a second after he hit it, dumping him in an undignified pile of armor and startled mage.

Anders crawled out from under Garrett and kicked him in the ribs. Garrett laughed, rolling over to snatch Anders’s foot and pull him back to the ground. Anders hit him ineffectually with the abandoned staff, voice going high with annoyance.

Isabela half-climbed, half-jumped down the rocks, showering more stones and dust on the two men below. She stepped around them, laughing as they yelled at her.

_ Falling rocks. _ That was it.

Perfect.

They could drag all the gold and treasures out of the thaig, as planned, then Marian would collapse the entrances. It wouldn’t solve the problem forever, but it might stall it until Marian could drag someone important into the situation and get the area closed off.

She would still have to get to the red lyrium idol before anyone else, and watch for Bartrand’s treachery, but that would be the extent of it. 

“You coming?” Varric’s voice called up the stairs. The dwarf waved his arm to attract her attention. 

Marian glanced down, grinning as Isabela, Anders, and Garrett scrambled after each other behind him. “Yeah,” Marian said, starting down the steps. “I’m coming.”

  


Day and night were entirely indiscernible underground. The glow of the lava, or in this case, red lyrium, never brightened or diminished. Day and night were what you made them.

Bartrand didn’t seem to comprehend the fact that even if it wasn’t pitch black, people still had to sleep. So night was usually when everybody stopped listening to him and hid under their blankets, as if that would protect them from the non-stop commands.

Bartrand usually shut up shortly after, to everyone’s great relief.

With the thaig in sight, the party was awake for much longer than they usually would have been. Marian managed to get herself dragged into one of the little search parties that were sent out to find the best entrance point. She and Anders had managed to make enough of a fuss about the red lyrium growing from the walls that everyone kept clear of it, even though nobody really knew what it was. The feel of the lyrium had even managed to get Garrett to take it seriously, and Varric was all for staying away. Everyone else fell into line after them, especially after the few times Marian dropped the words “blood magic.”

Every hour brought each search party closer to finding a way into the thaig, and closer to the lyrium idol. At the point that Marian was starting to get worried that another search party had found the entrance and just gone straight in, a runner came panting around the corner to tell them that Garrett’s party had found a way in that was large enough for the carts.

Fenris and the two dwarves who made up Marian’s search party trailed behind as Marian took off running.

As it turned out, her haste was completely unnecessary. Garrett’s team  _ had  _ found an entrance, but they weren’t willing to show anybody where it was until they’d gotten some sleep. Of course, Bartrand had been very vocally unhappy about it. 

Garrett’s response to the yelling was to go through the general Deep Roads nightly routine: all the normal nighttime rituals, plus ignoring one angry dwarf. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, thanks for reading! I'm having a few formatting issues, but the rest of the chapters should be up ASAP. Hope you're enjoying this story.


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